Out of the Light, Darkness
by thrownhammer
Summary: Two years after S5 Lumen and Dex reconcile, then he goes missing during the search for the Bathory Killer, a woman who bathes in the blood of her victims. Is he hunting, hiding, sequestered, or a lying bastard? Deb thinks Lumen responsible for his disappearance & behind the Bathory killings. Meanwhile squads of armed men are abducting people close to Dexter, but to what end?
1. Chapter 1  B & E

**I do not own any Dexter characters, nor the rights to any pop culture references to characters, people, institutions, or things such as MacGyver, Tom Servo (the name), Dan Marino, Kramer Knives, Target, Publix, Notre Dame, Julliard, etc nor do they endorse this.**

**Special thanks to CorvidCoccinelle, Jack E. Peace, and Shrike176 whose work inspired me to post all of this. Thanks for the hours of enjoyment; look them up... **

*** When I wrote this I was just going to let friends read it, not telling them it was a Dexter story. Posting this in the 'Dexter category' ruins the intended 'oh!' effect I was looking for. I worked hard on this chapter setting the scene with the reader not knowing it was a Dexter story…**

Chapter 1

B and E

October 31th 2012

Miami, FL

Blood, the precious liquid of life! Nothing was as precious to life as blood, neither your breath which could be caught, nor time which would always be slipping away. Blood, she felt it flushing her face. She heard the pounding of her heart like the drums of a cannibalistic tribe before a hunt, as it rushed the fluid of life through her veins it caused her hands to shake as she battled with her adversary. The adrenaline coursed through her, she could feel the throbbing of her jugular. The rush hit her like a wave crashing against that beach; she could see and hear the ocean from here. Even though she knew the owner of the dwelling of which she now sought such a serendipitous form of entry, she still felt the rush all the same, the thrill of the hunt. The pupil has now come to challenge the house of the master.

It was very late. It was way past last call and closer to the time of night that Death came for the old, sick, and feeble. Although it was late October, the Miami air was hot and sticky, her hands were sweating in the leather gloves making them stick to her and sweat rolled down her back soaking her hooded forest green shirt. There was a cold front coming in, but it sure as hell wasn't here yet.

He had taught her to wear dark colors, but never black which always raised suspicions of rent-a-cops and little old ladies faster than a perverts penis on Viagra. 'I know, my mother is so proud,' she thought, 'almost two hundred thousand dollars spent on higher education and that's the analogy that I come up with.' She always selected long sleeved shirts with hoods as her hair is naturally blond and captures the moonlight too well for her liking. She had tried to dye it black once, but with her pale skin she ended up looking like a prepubescent Emo. It's pronounced like Emoe, not Emu; that's a bird. What a silly name, they are the new phase of 'Gothic' near as she can tell.

As for looking prepubescent, don't worry, 'I'm used to it at this point,' she sighed. Not so much of height, she was tall for a woman at 5'8" but she was always slight of frame and her low body weight recently has become more of an issue than ever. She was working out a lot and not eating enough. It doesn't help that her mother is still waiting for the day when she gets to take her shopping for her first training bra. 'Good luck with that mother; I just turned thirty last Thursday,' she thought. She liked to look on the bright side; she never had issues with men not looking her in the eye when they talked to her, when men bothered to speak to her, that is. 'Chocolate brown, by the way, my eyes.'

The renter of apartment 10b was her savior for lack of a stronger word. He had vanquished her real life demons to the hell that they deserved. She had watched them all die, watched as the nectar of life pumped out of their freshly punctured chests. Sometimes she did more than watch, although their deaths were meager compensation for the months of extreme barbarism that she had suffered under them, quite literally. She wished now that she would have spent more quality time with them, she was sure it would have done wonders for her recovery to have been able to obtain some level of reciprocity with her former captors. They now only dwelt in her nightmares, but her hero was the Dark Defender of her dreams… he was always there waiting for them. Always coming out of the shadows to slay the wicked and save her, her Dark Defender.

She had once joked about getting him to teach her the secretive and elusive ways of bolts and tumblers; lock picking was a magical skill that he was so very apt, but she had left him before he could teach her that. She was self taught and it showed. His lock was Defiant in more than just the brand name.

She would have normally thought that it was lucky for her that he lived at the end of his apartment complex, but luck had nothing to do with it. He had chosen this unit with a purpose in mind; he wanted to be away from prying eyes and ears. But it was on the second floor and open to the world. She had to pick the lock standing up to avoid suspicion, which made it much harder. At last her adversary relented and yielded its' oh so forbidding fruit; she slowly turned the picks and the knob at the same time. She resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone was watching her, a clear give away of her shameless wrong doing.

She had to duck under the yellow _Crime Scene: Do Not Cross _tape that crisscrossed the door as she slipped inside. It didn't go unnoticed that the police trespassing sticker that sealed the door had already been cut, but not by her. The air it the apartment was hot and flat, stale from neglect. As warm and as humid as the Miami was, she felt a chill run through her, this her worst fear; that he really wouldn't be here, that he was really gone.

She turned and watched through the large slatted Jalousie windows, one slat high up was missing and she observed the broken pieces of the glass still set in the window. She surveyed the court yard, looking for the quintessential nosey neighbor. You know the type, a retiree with nothing else to do. Not even a mouse was stirring, well except for her.

The moon was bright over the bay which reflected it back in a million shimmering pieces. His apartment overlooked the apartment's pool; the security lights reflected off the water and bathed her and the ceiling in an eerie dancing light. She remembered lying naked in his arms watching the pool's reflection dance on the ceiling. She had found it so comforting. She lowered the blinds, noting that it indicated he was last here during the day. There was no way he would have had the lights on and the blinds up and she laughed slightly at what he once called its effect, a 'humaniquarium'.

She heard a long slow _CLICK _and her laugh died in her throat, short as its life was. She had just heard one of the most distinctive sounds in the world, a sharp CLICK as the hammer on a firearm locked into place. Her body froze; a million years of evolution doing their job, as her mind raced for a way out.

The front door was her best bet, but was 5 feet away and closed and locked. The bedroom was five feet past that, but there was nowhere to go after that, unless she wanted to dive through the Jalousie windows that ran from floor to ceiling down the length of the place. Not an appealing option, but better than a bullet.

Someone behind her had a gun pointed at her back, most assuredly not her dark prince. Guns were the bane of his existence; he was like a demented MacGyver, sans the mullet of course. Guns were loud and messy. If it was him she would be unconscious on the floor pumped full of M-99, an animal tranquilizer properly named etorphine hydrochloride. Or, if she had surprised him before he could prepare, he would be strangling her from behind. Oddly enough this made her think of his strong arms in which she felt so safe, which she knew was surly a sign of her damaged psychological state. He would never harm her, nor would he allow anyone else to. If anyone did, he would be taking them for a late night boat ride. Just like Charon's boat rides of Greek mythology; it would be a one way trip for which they would certainly pay for, but they wouldn't be handing over a piece of silver but their very lives.

If it wasn't him behind her then that left, "Hello, Deb," her voice cracked as she spoke. "Hands up bitch," said her adversary in a cool firm tone. She slowly complied, as she had also done the last time she had seen Debra, which as it happens was also at gun point. That time she had been caught by Deb, she had been shaking like a leaf, but those days were gone. She thought to herself, 'I really needed a new hobby, that and a bulletproof vest.'

She heard Deb move; she was sitting in the complete darkness on the far side of the room, opposite the door. A lamp clicked on, her eyes were that of a nocturnal apex predator now after so many months of hunting at night and even though she was outside but a few moments before she found the 60 watt bulb to be far too illuminating.

"Turn around slowly…" she complied, slowly turning left, acutely aware of the contrast of the light blue walls to her black leather gloves, a gift from her soul mate. She saw what appeared to be a bullet hole in the wall, the window AC unit looked like the front of it had been shot up as well, and the broken window was high up and must have been from a bullet too. Someone got at least three shots off.

Trying not to move her hands she blew hair out of her eyes. "_LUMEN_? Fuck me sideways! What the fuck are you doing here and where the hell is Dexter?"

"Lt Debra Morgan, as elegant and demure as always," Lumen Pierce said sarcastically.


	2. Backstory Chap 2:The Midas Touch

**The chapters labeled Back-story in the drop down box for the chapters aren't required reading and are Lumen centric. I was going to post these later under separate cover for anyone that felt like reading them, but the site has a policy against this, so I tossed them in here. We know what the Dexter was doing during this time (Dooms Day Killers).**

Chapter 2

The Midas Touch

December 20th 2010

Miami, FL

(A year and a half ago, 4-5 months after Season 5 ended)

"So, tonight's the night…" Lumen Pierce muttered to herself with disdain, you see she was in a less than spectacular mood. She was new to hunting prey and had never thought about checking the weather reports before picking tonight as the night. If she had she would have waited or chosen to dress differently. One thing was for sure, she would never forget again.

She was crouching in an alcove next to a three car garage that was attached to the rear of a huge mansion right on the bay. The man that lived here, Russell Farnsworth, had chosen this place as not only the storage place for the trash cans but the architect thought that this was a perfect place for the gutters to run off. She had been waiting here for four hours in a cold deluge of rain, for which she was poorly equipped in a thick cotton sweatshirt and hood.

There was a reason survivalists called cotton the 'death fabric', as it was leeching the heat away from her body. To add to her misery she could see across the driveway to the cozy little guest cottage where she had the kill room already set up. The plastic kill rooms trapped body heat quickly and in the summer they were torture, but now she was wondering if it would save her life. She laughed bitterly at the thought that a grown adult could die of exposure in Miami.

Many times in the last few hours she had contemplated giving up and going home, but he had always been fairly punctual before, always arriving home between 7 to 8pm. It was half past 10pm when she finally relented and decided to pack it up. She was five feet from cover when she heard the wrought iron gate open, 'or was it rod iron?' she wondered. The garage started to open at the same time, automatically. For a half second she wanted dive into the garage where it was dry, but common sense prevailed and scurried back to her hiding place like the drowned rat she was sure that she looked like. She slapped her gloved hands together hard a few times and jumped up a down trying to restore blood flow.

The car lights turned down the long drive and she pressed against the garage wall as the black SUV turned into the driveway. It pulled into the garage and the door started to descend, she crouched as low as she could and ducked behind the rear hatch of the SUV. She pulled out the stainless steel double cigar case and unscrewed one side and dumped a syringe into her hand. She had to really search to find an inconspicuous way to carry syringes and this was the best she had come up with so far. She had packed the ends with foam to keep it from rattling. Most people didn't think twice about a cigar tube in Miami…

He didn't get out of the SUV immediately and it just dawned on her that he may not be alone. He shut the engine off and opened the door; she could hear him humming Jingle Bells and heard a rustling of bags. Christmas shopping, he had gone Christmas shopping. This hit her conscience hard; he had a family or loved ones. He wasn't just a monster, her thoughts drifted back to Dexter and his three kids, she wondered if they had stayed past the summer and were there with him now in his little apartment. With a start she realized that he wasn't going to the door to the house but to the rear of the vehicle where she was crouched. She darted around the passenger side of the car just in time saved from being seen only by the bag of wrapping paper in his hands.

He struggled to life the rear hatch, she heard him sit the bag down, "what the hell?" She wasn't sure right then what had given her away, she pulled the top off the syringe and didn't bother to prime it again as reached around and plunged it into his leg and depressed the plunger. He didn't drop immediately as she expected him to, but lunged at her, it was awkward and she easily sidestepped it. He was falling face first into the cement and she made no effort to arrest his fall.

He lay there unconscious; she breathed a sigh of relief, looking down she saw her wet muddy footprints behind the car and she understood his shock. She had been afraid for a moment that she had diluted the M-99 too much. She had never asked Dexter how to prepare it or how he obtained it. She got hers the old fashioned way, she stole it. Well, sort of. She left a generous donation to the equestrian rescue shelter that she broke into and stole it, and the Naloxone, from. M-99 was used to knock out large animals to operate on. Naloxone was an anti-opiate that was used to counter it, either if you used too much or when you were ready to wake them up. The M-99 had to be diluted and she was afraid she had misjudged his weight.

She picked up the shopping bags and put them back in the SUV and shut the hatch. She collected his keys and pocketed them. She collected the syringe top and replaced it on the needle and returned it to the cigar case and scuffed up her footprints.

She quickly duct taped the man, he was even smaller than she had thought, at 5'9 and a hundred and sixty pounds he wouldn't be too difficult to manage. She smiled with a wicked grin when she saw the furniture dolly in the rear of the garage though. She duct taped him to it, which was difficult; wet gloves were not conducive to peeling and tearing duct tape.

She opened the garage with the automatic door opener that she removed from the visor and wheeled him over to the guest house. She prepared his body and couldn't help but think about the ancient Egyptians as she cut his clothes off and wrapped him in plastic. It was more work than she wanted to admit getting him on the table and at last she appreciated the term dead weight.

She knew she had some time and stripped off her clothes and rung them out over a bucket she brought for blood, resisting the urge to put them in the dryer in the next room. She watched as she rung out her white undershirt and with a jolt so strong she had to lean against a plastic covered wall, she had a vivid image of Dexter from behind wringing out a cloth over a similar bucket.

She remembered the primal, feral Lumen; she shuddered at thinking the word primal. Her thoughts at that moment came back to her. She had been completely torn down to an animalistic state: eat, hide, run, scared, pain, fight, play dead. Her thoughts rarely ventured past those base instincts in the last weeks of her captivity. She rolled off the table, landing hard on the concrete, rough hands grabbed her, held her, pinned her, the pinch under her chin of the needle and then darkness. She returned to the present, hands shaking but not from the cold. The nightmares had never ended, but the flashbacks had just started a few weeks ago. She never knew they could be so intense and she held the wet shirt to her face, in an effort to stay 'in the moment', another phrase that brought a chill to her spine.

She redressed thinking about Jordan Chase, the biggest monster of them all. He had never raped her, or cut her, or burned her. He had almost never touched her in fact. But the damage he had inflected had been far worse. His damage had been to reduce her to a primal state and she was certain that if he had been given more time he would have reprogrammed her to love him as he had done with Emily. It seemed laughable, but she knew all too well how far she had fallen. But, she had escaped and had reprogrammed herself. Now she was her own little monster. Sure she was a small monster, but so was the honey badger and everybody knows that the honey badger doesn't care. If it wants something dead, it kills it, sometimes simply because it can. Looking at the table she realized that she had to wrap this up and get out of here, she laughed at her own small joke.

She tried the smelling salt first and it woke up Russell Farnsworth with a jolt. He didn't look intimidating, especially strapped to a table. He was a fifty-five year old investment banker. He was balding with the classic horseshoe pattern and he appeared to have never worked out or done any manual labor his entire life, he was soft and pudgy all over. He looked completely incapable of murder, maybe that's why he had always gotten away with it.

He looked to his left first, away from her, "what in the hell?" He gawked at the four photographs, all of women he had known. Then he saw the table under it which held a cordless drill, a reciprocating saw, and a row of various knives.

"No, you're not in hell yet…" he whipped his head around and gawked at her."Who the hell are you?" She had donned a leather mask that covered most of her face and had her hood up. She had wondered why Dexter never wore a mask, maybe it was amateurish but she was in fact an amateur.

"You can think of me as Pandora, I am here to reclaim your evil spirit. You're days of killing women comes to an end tonight," she felt delighted at the coldness in her own voice; she felt like the melodious tone would have shattered his heart if it had been crystal. It was as if someone else was saying it; something inside her almost purred.

"What are you talking about, I didn't kill them! They aren't even all dead! My wife is in a sanitarium and that maid quit and took off. My sister jumped off a trestle when we were kids. That other woman I don't even know!"

"Oh, the six of them are dead enough…"

"Four… there are four…"

"The forth is Melissa Benedict, she was pregnant when your car hit hers and hers ran off the road. Sorry, but the baby counts, she was going to be named Rebecca. Too bad for you my 'right to life' sensibilities don't extend to rapists and murderers. Your money and your fancy lawyer got you out of that one, but I think we know what really happened.

"Medically your wife is in fact alive, but I think we can agree that she may as well not be. I didn't think they allowed lobotomies anymore…"

He snorted, "Not in this country…" he began in error. She felt her mind mentally sharpening its claws, she had been right. Lobotomies were apparently cheaper than divorces.

She laughed manically, and leaned over him, "lucky me I guess…" She walked over to the table and picked up the drill, which held a thin, long bit. "But, you know I have been reading up on the subject…" she eyed him expectantly and she felt something flutter inside her, not her heart it was lower, and it was almost like a nudge. She felt her body temperature rising as her heart started to race in anticipation. She let the inner monster take over and paced back and forth along the length of the table, waiting for her prey to show weakness so she could pounce.

"That leaves Maria Sanchez, your maid. You drugged her, raped her, and then locked her up for a day. I am guessing so the GHB got out of her system? You didn't wait long enough did you though? I bet you figured she would run home and shower and cry. Instead she went straight to the hospital for a tox screen and rape exam. It was your word against hers, but you didn't plan on her being such a devout catholic that she refused the morning after pill.

So, later when you found out she was pregnant, you thought 'that just won't do at all.' Raped or not she would clean you out with the child support. So, she had to disappear… You never counted on Miami Metro Homicide finding the mutilated body with the fetus removed. Who else would want a sixteen week old fetus?" She pressed on the middle of his forehead hard with her index finger, "You, that's who. So much for the police being able to get any of your DNA from the fetus, all's well that ends well I guess."

"Look miss, I really don't know who's been feeding you all this, but I didn't do anything to those women," he said coolly. "What's this really about? Look, this is about money isn't it, it's always about money. You want to shake me down, fine. You've done a great job; I truly believe that you think all this is true. How much are you looking to scare out of me?"

She grabbed his face in her hand like a basketball and turned his head so that she could put her lips to his ear without touching him and roared, "Money, this isn't about money! This is about reciprocity!" she could hear Dexter's voice in hers almost as if she were channeling him. The monster in her tried to scratch his face with both hands as she pulled away, but the gloves prevented it.

"Reciprocity implies an exchange of equal value, not necessarily the same thing. What is a life worth: one million, ten million, a hundred million?"

"Okay, fine Ebenezer, so do you have six hundred million dollars in cash here, I don't take checks?" she said as she stated to mount the table.

"Pull up that rug over there, the Persian one. Be careful cutting the plastic though, it's priceless especially considering there isn't a Persia anymore."

"You're kidding me?"

"No, hasn't been for a thousand years. Pull up the rug; I'm not going anywhere…"

She pulled out the small knife Dexter had purchased for her and made three cuts in the plastic and rolled the rug back. There was a huge metal door in the floor. "Flip up that little flap," she did so, it was a cover for the combination and had a place for a key. "Combination is 46 to the right, 17 left, 82 right, 2 left. Now there is a key on my key ring for the motor." She got up and taped his mouth shut, going to his pile of clothes she found his keys and located the correct one and turned it.

A motor lifted the heavy door; the interior was about the size of a refrigerator, "Hold on to your hat Howard Carter, there are _all kinds of wonderful things _here…" she murmured. The space was filled with valuables of all kinds, there were cases of jewelry, stacks of cold hard cash, bags of diamonds and other gems, gold bars, gold coins, a violin case, a katana, and other miscellaneous items. She couldn't resist seeing the katana; she picked it up and returned to the table.

He tried to mumble through the tape, she removed it."That's the same look I have every time I see it too. It's unbelievable, not hundreds of millions, but it's more than winning the Florida Lotto. You didn't even have time to really look; the smallest things are the most valuable. You didn't see the diamonds, bearer bonds, or relics yet. A lot of good can be done with all that money. What do you say?"

Her inner beast had recoiled in a moment of shock, which turned to boiling rage, as though someone had thrown a firecracker at it."Well, we never finished talking about your misdeeds. As for your sister, 'falling into a river' doesn't explain the thirty of so stab wounds in her, or how her sexual organs were removed, now does it? The detective your father bribed is actually still alive, poor man. I looked him up, he is ninety now and no one visits him, except for when I went to see him. He was so eager to tell me all about it. He was a good cop that took a ton of money in a moment of weakness," she smiled mischievously as she unfurled another roll of plastic covered both the door and the hole and carefully sealed it with duct tape. "A moment he regretted everyday of his life."

"Umm, what are you doing?" he asked nervously, finally realizing that the added plastic was a bad sign for him. "Look that stuff isn't even mine, I broker things for people. I work as an intermediary… It's part of an international consortium. They will hunt me forever for this. Let me go find a nice rock somewhere, they'll never find me…"

"Oh, I know they won't, that will insure that they keep looking for you, besides if the stuff isn't yours then it wouldn't really be punishment by taking it away, would it?" she grinned as she put duct tape and plastic over the hilt of the katana, to protect the wrapping on the hilt.

"_HELP ME, HELP ME! POLICÍA! POLICE! HELP THIS BITCH IS CRAZY!_" he shrieked.

She walked slowly over to the table, "You know that no one else can hear you, besides I doubt anyone who knows you would help," with that she replaced the tape on his mouth and took a hospital style oxygen mask and put it over his nose and mouth. The tube led into a little purple glass antique perfume bottle that she placed on the floor beside him.

His eyes were pleading, not understanding, "I am going to capture your last breath in that bottle, and put it back in Pandora's Box, one more evil spirit put back where it belongs." She climbed up on the table and straddled him. "I won't suffer a moment of weakness; you see I knew your maid Maria Sanchez. We were in the same survivors group; she was a friend and told me everything." His eyes widened and he tried to scream through the tape. She held the sword underhanded and raised it high over her head and plunged it down in a swift motion. It cut through his chest like it was nonexistent and bit hard into the table underneath him.

Blood arced up, the sound of it hitting the plastic and the misting onto her face was very fulfilling. Lumen felt the tremor flow through her and leaned on the hilt of the sword as she, for lack of a more apt term, came to orgasm. She forced her eyes to remain open, watching as the light left his eyes, and she felt as though her inner child stretched as if content. She shuttered one last time and removed the sword; it made a sucking sound as it pulled free.

He lived alone in that huge house, all of his children having left the nest and his wife didn't for obvious reasons. He had a staff and a twenty something squeeze toy but they didn't live there, so she took her time cleaning up. The sword had plunged through him and the plastic and halfway through the table. It was hard to clean in there, but she did her best.

She resisted looting first and took care of loading the body and the presents first. She felt like the Grinch stealing the presents but she knew it would confuse the time table and the reason for his being missing. She was able to get everything in one trip; she had to or else be force to leave it behind.

The stuff wasn't worth hundreds of millions, but he had been telling the truth about the small things being worth more, the diamonds here alone were staggering. But the most valuable thing there wasn't art, or money, or gems, or gold. It was a black business ledger with names and numbers. She didn't get around to looking at it for a month and it was another month before she realized that some of the numbers were international phone numbers. Phone numbers to banks. Next to them were the account numbers and identification numbers.

She was scared of what she had stumbled on before, once she checked the balances she was petrified. Whoever owned this stuff would not be pleased. She thought about dumping it in the ocean, but then what if they found her and she actually didn't have the stuff anymore? She didn't relish that thought at all, at least if she had it they might kill her quickly.

It was too late by the time she got scared to put it all back. The more she looked at it all, the more it looked like a curse. Even if it wasn't stolen, it wasn't as if she could easily unload any of it and remain unidentified, it could all be traced to her. She was even terrified to get it appraised, as foolish as that sounded. It was a rotting carcass of an albatross, smothering her, but one thing was certain. No one must ever find out, not ever.


	3. Backstory Chap 3: Keep the Meter Running

Chapter 3

Keep the Meter Running

Jan 20th 2011 (18 months ago)

Homestead, FL

BAM, BAM, BAM… Lumen jumped awake. She had been slightly reclined in the front seat of a car, but not so much that she couldn't be seen. A bright light was shining in, blinding her. She heard a muffled "Miss, roll the window down please." She saw the badge hanging around his neck and gun belt, but couldn't make out the face because of the Maglite held over his shoulder.

She reached to the armrest for the automatic window button that wasn't there, now she remembered where she was. She reached down and manually cranked the window down of the cab she had purchased, with cash of course. Cabs make for an outstanding stake out vehicles. When was the last time you really looked at a cab sitting on the side of the road? Police seemed less inclined to pull her over as well; it seems that they get a 10mph over the speed limit pass. Besides, it's not something she would think twice about burning down if she had to ditch it.

"Are you alright miss?" the officer asked in a deep southern drawl.

"Yeah," she murmured rubbing her eyes. She had been sitting here watching the road waiting for her target to show itself. Maybe it just has. She saw no flashing lights and a quick look in the rearview mirror revealed a dark car, a new Charger?

"Drivers Licenses and proof of insurance please." She grabbed both from the used ash tray, they were rubber banded together along with a pen, and handed them to him. His light was still shining in her face; he didn't follow her hands to the consol as a real police officer would have, to insure she wasn't reaching for a firearm. She tried to blink and look cute but it was impossible with the light on her.

"Here they are sir. Are you from Mississippi?"

"Alabama. What are you doing downtown this late?"

"I pulled over to eat and must have dosed off. Thanks for waking me up, not really safe to be down here after sundown."

"I'll be right back," he walked back to his car and got in.

She was able to see him better in the side mirror, he was wearing a black camouflage style suit SWAT guys are shown wearing in the movies, not a uniform. She may have been asleep, but that Maglite was brighter than the normal ones. This might be the guy…

He was in his car for a few minutes then came back and handed my license and insurance card. "Dora Jones," it wasn't a question. "You checked out. Go ahead home and get some sleep. Drive safe until then."

"Yes, um Officer…?"

"Kilpatrick, Officer Richard Kilpatrick."

"Uh…no, can I have my pen back, it was a gift from a friend."

His mouth downturned just slightly, 'sorry to disappoint you officer, but I needed it more than you…' she thought. He pulled it from his breast pocket and gave it to her. He did a slight about face, spinning in place slightly as he turned.

He walked back to his car and got in. She dropped the pen in a Ziploc bag and picked up her ID by the sides and dropped it in as well and sealed it up. She waited a minute for him to pull away, hoping to get a plate number or to follow him, no such luck. She put it in gear and went to the address on her license. She didn't live there, but 'Dora Jones did, at least on paper.

She changed her name, something she had put as a priority. After all, how could she really be sure all the men who had created her were deceased? She had never seen their faces; realistically it could have been a dozen men. Better to be safe than sorry. Once she had taken a lot of time choosing a name for her dark persona, Pandora, which she shortened to Dora.

Pandora was birthed in fire, as was she. You see Zeus was angered that the secret of fire had been stolen from the gods and commanded Hephaistos and the other gods to create a woman, Pandora, and endow her with the beauty and cunning of the gods. He then delivered her to Epimetheus, the foolish younger brother of Prometheus, as a bride. When he had received her into his house, Pandora opened the box which Zeus had given her as a wedding present, and released the swarm of evil spirits trapped within. They would ever afterwards plague mankind. Only one spirit Hope remained behind in the box.

The name Jones she took from the old woman who had lived here, Camellia Jones. She died a month or two ago, literally. The coroner didn't know if it was one or two. No one had found her body for weeks. No one had claimed the body. Lumen was able to research and find the funeral plot where her husband was interred. Her funeral expenses had been prepaid; Lumen was the one that connected the dots and had her buried next to her husband who had passed some 20 years before her.

Now she was playing the grief stricken great niece of Camellia. She was sure Camellia would not have minded that much; she was the only one at the service after all. Lumen respectfully moved most of Camilla's things into the small bedroom and set up shop. She didn't live here mind you. This was her killing ground and drop house. You see, her tactics must differ from her Dark Defenders by necessity. She lacked the size to move her targets quickly and quietly and usually tricked them into coming to her.

She sat on the porch drinking a pot of coffee, he drove by three times. The last time he came almost to a complete stop. "Excuse me sir, can you come in here for a moment?" she said in a low voice, Chris Hanson from Dateline would be so proud. Unconsciously she was leaning forward as a fisherman would as he felt something testing the bait. She really _needed_ him to come inside. She found that she was clutching her kill kit in both hands, not realizing it. He slowly drove on. He never hit the same night that he pulled his victims over, that she knew of. He was building up his fantasy, which was fine by her. She would leave her meter running.

This guy put a new spin on the 'policeman pulls the single woman over to rape her' scenario. He didn't rape them right there; he took down their information and paid them a visit a few weeks later. The real police were convinced he was pretending to be a police officer; she would make no such assumption. She had to be careful with this one; if he was a police officer and he got away she could be looking at serious prison time. Also, if he was and she did pull it off the manhunt would be massive. There would be no room for error.

Lumen drove to where her real car was stashed, making sure she wasn't followed, and then drove home to her new condo. She got out her lap top and put on a cup of coffee. She then took out the zip lock bag and pulled her pen apart revealing a USB drive. The pen had a hidden camera and microphone in it. She downloaded the video of her encounter and watched it. The video wasn't great but it did have a pretty good shot of his face, along with some disturbing audio of him pleasuring himself while looking at her license while he was in his car, the creep. She had the cap of the pen in her mouth and quickly spit it out and wiped her mouth with her shirt like a disgusted child.

It wasn't something that she relished doing, but she sat down to write an email to Dexter, she had to know who this guy was:

_Dearly my Darkest Dexter, _(he had told her of his fascination of 3d words)

_ There is so much I want to say, but I know an email isn't the way to convey it. I have also met someone whom I think you would love to meet. He is a great guy and I would love for us to gather around a table together and share a few laughs, but I would like your approval first. Let me know what you think of him, your opinion really matters to me as he appears to be getting too close. He wears a police uniform well and I am sure you know what a messy relationship that can turn into._

_ I am sure you are working double time on the Doomsday Killer case. _

_ Please be careful,_

_ Lumen_

She attached a scanned copy of a fingerprint that she lifted from her license and a picture of his face from the video. She seriously considered sending the video, but figured no good could come of it. Her finger hovered over the send button and she was amazed that it was harder to do this than to stab someone. She forced her finger down and forced herself to walk away.

She went and took a bath and by the time she was done with that, as well as disinfecting her pen and license, he had written a reply. He had handwritten his note and scanned it; it was beautiful, almost calligraphic writing. She wondered if Harry had also taught him how to write like this, the FBI could identify someone with an antisocial disorder by looking at how they shape their letters.

_ My Naturally Sweet Lumen, _(she laughed at the sugar packet reference; she likes to mutilate them when she's nervous.)

_ Things can be conveyed different ways, but by the same means._ _Your friend looks like the type of person that I would really like to get know better, but let me take a closer look tomorrow. Please don't get caught in the moment, sometimes it's better to follow your instincts than to get caught up in the moment._

_ I can't wait to tell you about my late friend, Brother Sam. In the short time I knew him he taught me so much about life. I really think he has helped to open my eyes to what I am truly capable of. Perhaps one day I will no longer be a puppet, but a real boy._

_ I obviously miss you greatly, and I am thankful that you value my opinion enough to write._

_ The Dark Defender of your Dreams,_

_ Dexter_


	4. Backstory Chap 4: That's a Wrap

Chapter 4

That's a Wrap

Camp Jordan, outside Miami

Feb 26th 2011

One year ago

(One month later, she never heard back from Dexter and located another target.)

Thomas Servukoski's mind was soaring like he was riding to heaven on a beam of sunlight; he felt warm, happy, loved and needed. Then he realized that he was the beam of sunlight, it was emanating out of him. All things he had missed out on for the last half on his life came flooding back to him. All the parties, girls, booze, pot, and all the china white he could get his hands on had passed him by. He had lost everything when he got clean and sober. He had no friends, no girl, and a shitty 1 bed 1 bath apartment next to an all night fast food restaurant. He laughed to himself, 'DING Thanks for coming to Cluck'n Bell may I take your order please?' he had heard that every day, all day to the point of going totally insane. But, worst of all he lost the beam of light, that had always been waiting for him, to embrace him. Wait, the light was going away now… why so soon? Wait, come back! "_Come back_!" he screamed.

"…pardon?" asked a puzzled female voice with a sight Minnesota accent. He felt the cold sweat, the shakes were starting already. He was blind; everything was all blurry. A lot more than normal anyway, except the girl. The girl was normal blurry, she was pulling a needle out of his arm.

"Why did it go away? What did you give me? Are you an angel?" he asked dreamily, staring at her luminescent golden hair.

"Etorphine hydrochloride the first time, and no I'm not an angel. I've never seen that effect on someone before. You were laughing nonstop," she sounded more confused than concerned.

"Ha ha, the good stuff! They use that to knock out elephants, it's better than China White. You're an Angel of Mercy then, what was the other thing?" he could feel his mind cleaning rapidly.

"Naloxone," she began…

"Oh, no beautiful sweet Angel please say it isn't so. I waited a quarter of a century for that ride and you cut it short? That's just demonic… glasses?"

"Huh?"

"Glasses, I am nearly blind without them."

"Oh," he heard her move around some plastic and then put his glasses on.

"Why do I have a cold sweat and the shakes; no one withdraws after one use," he mumbled as she put his glasses on. She was standing over him looking at him curiously, head tilted so that he saw her upright. Everything else was blurry because they were doing some painting or something and had plastic up all around.

"The shakes are because you're naked and you're cold, the sweating is because the Saran Wrap doesn't breathe." She was wearing black thick rubber gloves and matching black rubber apron over her clothes.

"Naked?" he snickered highly. "So, did you and I? I guess the S&M thing is fine but you can forget the gloves and apron, I'm not into that weird stuff. I am a meat and potatoes man myself. You are like half my age though, younger than I normally like but _very_ hot. I can see why I made the exception."

"No, we didn't. I knew I wasn't your type, but I thought you liked them male ages 5-7?" She nodded to an open laptop with pictures of little boys in sexual situations.

"What kind of sick twisted shit," he said outraged and he tried to sit up for the first time and realized he couldn't.

"I found these on your little friend's computer, you put them there. I was following you to your little swap meet. I knew Bernardo stopped going online, but it was nice and neighborly for you help him get his fix." He saw her pick up a cordless reciprocating saw and tested its weight.

"Hey, wait lady," he said in a panicked voice his head clearing enough to know he was in danger. "You got this all wrong, I broke in his back door and planted that stuff there and dropped the dime to his parole officer. They took him back to prison today! Check the news! I'm guilty of B&E and planting that sick shit in his house, but that sick fuck was escalating. He was looking to snatch a kid."

She tested the power to the saw, "Nice try you're just trying to wiggle out of this. You are the one circling Creek Side Elementary School." She walked over and was examining him, sizing him up.

"Oh, fuck me. This is just fucking great, I was following him lady! Here I was, giving you and Morgan props the other night, for taking out Chase and those other fucks, but shit they were probably innocent too, the way your deductive reasoning works."

"_What_…?" She half screamed. "What do you think you know about Chase?" she was infuriated by someone saying Jordan Chase was innocent and the blood lust welled up in her and she wanted nothing more than stick this reciprocating saw in his mouth and cut out his lying tongue, but he said Dexter's name, she had to find out what he knew and more importantly how.

He started information purging, spewing all of this out very rapidly, "I saw you follow me home from the Narcotics Anonymous support group and wanted to know who was tailing me and why. I was a little paranoid, to tell you the truth. So, I knew what your car looked like, so I was going to go back there until I saw your car again, you were there the next night."

I got your plate number and VIN number and that led to a name, 'Dora Jones but your 'stage name' is Pandora. With a name like that figured you for a dancer, I figured right," he smirked. "I found your businesses, bonding permits, concealed weapon permit and library card; Twilight…really? But nothing existed for her older than 12 months, but I figured if you were at a Survivors group meeting you might be on the down low. I found the name change in the newspaper archives so; I bribed a nitwit at the county records office and got the whole story." "Your given name was Lumen Pierce, after that it was easy. You were from Minnesota, you attended Notre Dame and studied dance at Julliard. You made it to Broadway; I loved you in Cats by the way, is that still done el natural? A ton of records up until six months ago, I swear you shop more than ten mere mortal women _combined_. Then you dipped on poor little Owen and your wedding and flew to Miami, he is enjoying Bali by the way."

"You were here for a few days spending a ton of money and then dropped off the face of the God damn planet. No cell phone calls, texts, charges, facebooking, or ATM swipes and let's face it, you go through money too fast to carry cash. Your 'by the week' hotel kept your hotel room open for a month, and was nice enough to bill it to collections; even though I think you we both know you were only there three to four days, tops."

"Then no one hears _shit_ from you for eight weeks, your mom says to tell you 'hi' by the way. Then some douche named Dexter Morgan shows up to pay your bill in full, out of the freaking blue. Who even uses a Diners Club card anymore?"

"So, I start looking at that guy, not too hard to find shit on a guy with a name like that, works for Miami Metro homicide. His father is the late great Detective 'Keys to the City' Harry Morgan. Douches sister is toast of the town herself, the youngest female detective and now Lieutenant Foul Mouth. But then she was just Det. Debra Morgan, assigned to yet another huge case, the Barrel Girls killers. I remembered that one from the paper; I'm a still a daily subscriber."

"That case is listed a 'solved' which means the case files are open to anyone to requests them under the Florida Sunshine Law, photos, videos, everything. She liked Jordan Chase and some other guys based on DNA and the fact that all of them started dropping of the face of the planet. Oh, and the barrel girls are all blond, 5'6 to 5'9, slim build, pretty, and all went unnoticed for a long time when they disappeared. That sound freaking familiar?"

"So, then just to make sure I am not a conspiracy theorist wacaloon, I think maybe Dear Lumen is just on the lamb. So, how do you find someone on the lamb? You look to what they find irresistible, junkies always need their fucking fix. In your case, shopping. Anyone that buys as much _shit_ as you do would have her own UPS account set up for easy tracking and billing. Now believe it or not, that was the hardest part out of all of this, it was like blood from a stone getting info from those UPS people. Lucky for me you are foolish enough to have your pets name as your password. Your cat is named Mittens, fucking really? What are you twelve? UPS showed you changed your address to 3319 Meadow Lane, again eight weeks after you dropped off the grid."

"County zoning records show that low and behold that house that belonged to Dexter Morgan of all people. A house his wife was freaking murdered in… by a serial killer, who also happens to be missing? The house had been up for sale and was without power and water until around when you started shipping things there and then was pulled off the market and the lights came back on. No phone calls other than telemarketers for six more weeks, none of which were picked up, until Jordan Chase's private cell phone calls there for 60 seconds one week before he goes missing. Nothing was shipped to that address after that."

"Chase found you, like I found you and you bolted. The Icing on top, is that two days after Jordan Chase disappears, in the middle of a nationwide manhunt; bigger than when the Max Factor fag bolted, Miss Lumen Pierce books a flight out of dodge and resumes her life of jet setting around the world spending other people's money, as if everything is hunky dory again."

"I think you, Debra, and or Dexter the Douche are doing some Charlie's Angels vigilantly bullshit and you're not even bothering to research your targets _because you have an innocent fucking man strapped to a table! Now, am I a freaking a conspiracy theorist wacaloon or did I get it all about right?"_ He said all of this astonishingly fast, probably in under a minute, screaming the last part. He was completely out of breath and collapsed his head back on the table.

She stood over him in stunned shock for at least as long as he had spoken. He looked at her. "Look lady please go ahead and just do it, I've been dead for years away. Just dope me up again first and make it quick at the very least. Otherwise, please cut me free so I can go get a fix. By the way your Library book is overdue."

"What's his name?" she asked.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"The parole officer you called, who was it?"

"Dan McPherson, I called anonymously on Tuesday around noon, call him if you want, or you can check my phone."

"I have video of that fuck circling Creek Side Elementary school. It's in the My Videos folder with his name on it. You can also sort the porn by views and see I have never opened that filth."

She went to the computer looking through the files. "Why did you set him up, what's your motive?" she inquired distractedly.

He raised his head again and this time his voice was pure venom, "None of your fucking business _Barrel Girl_! If you want to know that, then go do your own fucking homework. Now either kill me, or cut me lose," he rocked back and forth, trying to get lose.

"Why didn't you go to the police with all this?"

He laughed, "Yeah, like they are going to believe a guy like me over the Morgan-Super-Cop-All-Stars. Besides some of the things I did to get the information were not entirely legal and don't we both want the same thing anyway? Only you're a just a _tad_ more extreme…" he laughed genuinely.

"How long were you clean?"

"23 years, 4 months, 3 days. Boy that was the biggest mistake of my life. In those few minutes I felt more joy than I have felt in those 23 years." He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, "I just want it to all go away."

"I just want to feel better… I just want it to all go away…" she repeated in a ghost like voice. "I've said those exact words countless times. Come on let's get you out of here." She reached down and cut him loose, surprising them both. She looked completely stunned, but didn't know what else to do.

"Where are my clothes?" he demanded.

"Yeah, sorry about that, it's easier to cut them off. Your shoes and wallet and everything are over there." She said as she was ripping plastic wrap down from the ceiling and stuffing it into garbage bags.

"Fuck, I'm freezing." Behind him she was packing up a cutlery set of very exotic knives in a roll up carrying case. Next to it was a cordless drill, reciprocating saw, and set of bolt cutters. "Jesus, what the hell are those for?" he nodded to the bolt cutters as he continued to unwrap himself.

"Femurs, I lack the strength to break them and a saw takes awhile and is messy. I was going to try those to see if they work better. It might just splinter them." she mused.

"Maybe next time," he looked around. "What the hell is this place?"

"It's my summer home," she was on the far side of the table pulling up the plastic from the floor he couldn't see her face.

"What charming décor, I _love_ what you've done with the place, it's _so_ post-modern." he quipped looking at the plastic wrapped room. "But, you were able to keep that old world feel… very… Spanish Inquisition…" he nodded to Ice Block tongs, branding irons, a gigging fork, bail hooks, and other rusty implements and restraints on the far wall which she had just exposed. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut and slowly exhale without looking at the wall, but continued the clean up.

He had been considering grabbing a knife that was now within reach, but he realized she wasn't kidding about it being her 'summer home'. "So, this is where you were?" She swallowed and nodded. "So, you thought by doing this here you would stop dreaming about this place?"

"Something like that, you were right on with most of what you said but not all of it. The killing I did alone. I was using Morgan for information, that's it," her voice sounded hollow even to her it sounded like a lie. "…and also Cats is a play, not ballet."

"Uh huh, sure whatever you say. Good thing you didn't kill me, it would just make it worse. You do know that I could grab one of those knives and kill you right?" he said all together, with the same nonchalant tone, as he laced up his boots.

"Yes, but you would have done it by now. You've been looking at them for two minutes. I halfway wanted you too, I can't do it myself. You wouldn't be killing me, I am dead already too." He slowly drew one of the knives; out of the corner of his eye he saw her body tighten, betraying her will to live. "Wow! You have a _whole set_ of Bob Kramer Custom knives? You can't even order these; it's a random lottery system. Top chefs wait _years_ sometimes to get just one… they are beautiful…" he tested the weight and balance.

"Yeah, Genzu is out of business I think, so it was those or the Giada De Laurentiiscollection from Target. I took a chance," she laughed. "How is it you know so much about knives?"

"I'm a chef. Giada would've been a sound choice because they are one solid piece, no joints, cracks or screws for blood to get trapped in. She's got a rocking body," and they said at the same time "But, her mouth is HUGE," they both laughed.

"Wow, you're a chef, really? When we get out of here I'll let you pick one of those out while you cook me dinner. It's the least I can do."

"Cool, I will take you up on that," he promised.

"'I can't promise that I'll be the best eater, I think they destroyed my love of eating forever," he opened his mouth, "don't ask."

She looked up and couldn't help but laugh in a girlish way; he was completely naked except for maroon Doc Martins that came up to his calf and his huge horn rimmed glasses. He was covered in tattoos that covered his whole well developed body except his head and hands, he was still holding a butcher knife, and had naturally white hair which was the only thing that betrayed his age of fifty.

He looked down and laughed too, "hey, I was in the pool…"

"No, it's not that, silly. It's just that you just kind of look like a demented clown."

He laughed, "Well, you have a very beautiful laugh and I don't have any modestly, but if you do I think that your apron is the best I can hope for."

"Oh, sure," she took it off and gave it to him. She looked at his face which had always been a firm, stony mask of rage and intensity. As he put the apron on and tied it almost blushing, she saw his façade crack for a moment and saw the playful little boy underneath. She realized with a jolt that he seemed to be the polar opposite of Dexter. Dexter projected the fake 'boy next door' to hide what he thought of as a monster underneath, to protect the monster. Thomas was a hurt little boy putting up the façade of a monster to protect the little boy. The tattoos, muscles, stony face, the glasses, the attitude, they were all thorns to keep people from getting close.

"Anyone ever tell you that you look like that guy from Black Flag?"

"Rollins, yeah I get that a lot. We don't really look the same though; we give off the same vibe. I think it's because we are both Leos, that's all. Okay let's bounce," he grabbed her duffle bag and a fist full of the trash bags and walked up the basement stairs, she giggled, "I thought only your head and hands weren't tattooed."

"Yeah, laugh it up. I want to get a big smiley face there but no one will do it; I'm kidding. Look, 'Dora, I am really sorry for speaking to you that way; my mother brought me up on how to properly treat a lady, that sort of language is unacceptable, especially calling you Barrel Girl. It was over the line."

"You were drugged, abducted, and strapped to a table by a vengeful woman with power tools; I think you get a pass," they both laughed. "Hey Thomas, if a beautiful blond half your age asked you to drop everything and go on a cruise on her yacht to a private Island in the Caribbean for a week or two, what would you say?"

"Ha ha, who would say no to that? It's Tom or Servo, no one calls me Thomas unless I have vaginal familiarity, by birth or otherwise. Preferably only during said familiarity," he said as they loaded everything in the trunk of an old cab.

"Okay Tom it is…and if there was no vaginal familiarity involved on said trip?"

"Well," he mused, realizing it wasn't hypothetical, "that kind of ruins the whole image…"

"What if she had an aversion to tan lines?" she eyed him.

"I know an intervention when I hear one, but I'm in. When are we going?"

"We can go right now. We can be there by daylight. You need to call anyone or go to your place or anything?"

"Nope, I have no ties, no job, and no pets. So, you own an island?"

She laughed, "No. I'm sure someone does, but there are plenty of little islands without anyone on them." She flipped open her phone and dialed as they got in the car, he cursed the cold seat, "Yes Captain, its 'Dora… yes, we are still going out tonight. I am thinking of bringing a friend and staying out for two weeks or so, are we provisioned for that? I know it's unexpected. No, canned milk is fine. We'll be there in a few hours. Thanks."

She turned on the car and started driving, when he asked, "so, you were already going out tonight?"

"Yes, so were you, but this way you will find much more enjoyable," she smiled sideways at him.

"Ha ha, and you will find me marginally more useful."

"Wow, at least we both have twisted senses of humor, I have a drop house on the way. I have some clothes there that should fit you fine. It will only take a minute."


	5. Backstory Chap 5 Baby, It's Cold Outside

Chapter 5

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Lumen's drop house, Miami

Feb 27th 2011 (Over 1 year ago)

Lumen Peirce drove slowly through the blacked out neighborhood, the power was out undoubtedly because every house in Miami had heaters running for the first time in years. The only light came from the bright and glorious moon. She certainly didn't want to get in a wreck with a strange naked man in the car, so she was careful going thru the intersections with street lights that were out. She also had difficulty picking out the house; they all look the same in the dark. She found the little track house she was working out of and pulled all the way around to the back of the drop house out of habit. "I have a whole travel bag in there, should just take me a second. You can change on the way." She hopped out of the car, turning the engine off and taking the keys to unlock the door.

"Great, I'll just sit here and freeze 'Dora," he called after her. "Just what I always wanted, to sit naked in a taxi cab, one more thing I can scratch of ye 'ole bucket list. Next week I'll swim the Hudson with my mouth open," Tom bitched quietly to himself.

She ran to the door, it was uncharacteristically cold for Miami and the spandex jogging pants she usually wore to kills was doing little against the cold, sure she was from Minneapolis, but she was pretty sure there was absolutely no spandex in the whole state. It took her a minute to get the door unlocked, she was amazed at being able to see her breath due to the cold; she never thought it got that cold here. The lock was old and wouldn't turn for a moment, it finally gave way. She shouldered the door open and left the keys in the door and the door open.

She had to marvel at the turn of events this evening; she was so intent on killing someone that she didn't do enough homework. Once again she hadn't done enough research and instead of a criminal, she had found someone else like herself. It was hard to find information on people without Dexter's resources. She was already thinking about offering Tom a job as a tracer at her bail bonds company, but she hadn't even thought about using him for her extracurricular activities. God, it sounded like they thought a lot alike. He was a lot farther down the supposed road to recovery, but he was still as messed up as her. She assumed it was sexual abuse as a child, but knew he would never share that with her. The muscular physique, tattoos, drug abuse, and lack of roots all point to that.

"Poor guy," she said aloud as she picked up her duffle bag. Just then she felt as though a snake had bitten her ass, she heard a crackling noise like static cling on steroids and she realized her mistake: the power was out. She had the house wired with motion detection IP cameras that sent video to her phone if anyone was in the house; they won't work without power. Her body went rigid from the high voltage coursing through her and she could feel the hair on her arms standing on end, before she collapsed to the ground.

"Poor me is right, been here for hours in the cold. But, at least we have all night to get to know each other better." If it were not for the thousands of volts of electricity coursing through her, she would have shuttered at the sheer evilness in the voice. It was the police officer, or the guy posing as one. He held down the taser trigger again, for what seemed like an eternity this time. It felt like fire ants were stinging her everywhere at once, her brain throbbed and eyes both felt like they were going to jump out of her skull. Then there was a rippling sensation as if thick waves of lava were flowing through her body, except for her bones which she could actually feel.

"You see the body runs on an electric current and when a second one is applied, a stronger one, it completely drowns out the signals your brain is sending out, so your muscles don't know what to do," he explained holding the trigger the whole time. "The longer you get hit, the longer the effect lasts."

He stopped and she heard him sit the taser down and heard him moving, but she couldn't see him which amplified her terror. She heard the distinctive sound of duct tape being pulled off the roll and she was able to let out a sob. He leaned over her; he was wearing a ski mask and gloves, and taped her mouth shut, which made it almost impossible to breathe as the electrocution had loosened her sinuses.

She thought about everything she had done to avoid this happening again and it was all pointless: hours at the gun range, honing her body at the gym, learning Judo, buying a military attack dog, parking in safe places, talking on her phone going to her car, all of it was going to be completely useless. He rolled her onto her stomach and took no care in duct taping her hands; she knew he was being extra rough on purpose. He was wearing gloves but they were like ice.

Lumen exhaled a lot of air through her nose, not to try to clear her air way, quite the opposite. She wanted to go unconscious, she would rather not remember. She felt him rip her pants down without bothering to remove the electrodes first, being miniature harpoons they were not painless to have removed this way. She felt the cold air on her nakedness and her hot blood leaking from her wounds. She heard him undoing his belt, and then felt him lower his pants. His hot flesh pressed against hers, his penis working its way between her cheeks. She tried exhaling every bit of air in her lungs and she held her breath, she could feel the darkness swimming over her.

"'Dora what gives, I'm freezing my untattooed butt off out here…" Tom laughed as he rounded the corner.

It sounds crazy, and it is surely a sign of the level of physical and mental abuse she had undergone, but Lumen wasn't glad that Tom, a man she had only just met tonight, had walked in on this. At first she told herself she didn't want him to get himself hurt or killed. But, the truth was that she ashamed to be seen this vulnerable. She was once again a victim, needing someone else to save her.

She saw his boot in front of her face. He was about to trip over them in the dark for Christ's sake. In fairness to Tom, his poor vision wasn't the main issue; Lumen and her attacker were both wearing dark colors, in the dark, and on the floor. He almost walked on her face when he rounded the corner. Lumen's face was one inch from the maroon Doc Martins, she couldn't move or speak, just let out more precious air as darkness was spreading around her, and a "huff" sound is all that came out. A few seconds ago, she wanted nothing more than to pass out and now she wanted nothing more than to keep the darkness at bay as she started to see what looked like strobe lights, she desperately tried to steady her breathing. She heard both men say at the same time, "_what the fuck_?"

Tom reached down and yanked her tormentor off of her by the back of his jacket halfway pulling him to his feet. Years of working as a bouncer causing a critical error, bouncers are the only people that pull opponents up instead of taking them to the ground. A bouncer on the ground usually gets dog piled by his opponent's friends. Her assailant landed on his rear between her legs.

The masked man grabbed at his belt and pushed something against Servos chest, the sound of electricity, this time from a hand held stun gun, crackled through the air. Tom looked down and roared with laughter, Lumen thought it might be the drugs for a moment. "Hey genius," there was a quick _pop, pop, pop_ as Tom hit him with three quick left jabs, "you should have stayed wake in Physics, fascinating subject." He took a half step back a kicked the man in the jaw, which issued a satisfying _crack _the stun gun fell on the floor near Lumen's arm and out of reflex she rolled on to her back, to cover it under her. She succeeded and found motion control returning. "Rubber is an insulator; you see, it has no free electrons," he patted the thick rubber apron he was wearing.

"Who wears a ski mask in Miami anyway?" Tom quipped as he wasted time ripping the guys mask off, "wow, Lindsey Vonn you are _not_. Sorry I asked?" Lindsey got to his feet and Lumen pulled her knees up to her chest and kicked out savagely at his groin, he saw it coming and pivoted enough to take most of it on his pelvis. "The Lady doth pretest too much, no? Looks like…" at that point Lindsey charged over Lumen and slammed into Tom midsentence. They were propelled into the kitchen and slammed against the antique refrigerator, rocking it. Lindsey delivered several solid blows to Tom's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him, doubling him over.

Lumen struggled to her feet and stepped into the doorway, trying feebly to pull her pants up to free up her legs. Lindsey pushed Tom upright with a hand to the chest and raised his fist, "Hey Tesla, your headlights are out," and delivered a crushing blow to his jaw. Tom fell sideways and to her horror she saw his eyes roll over white.

Lindsey stood up and turned toward her, "Oh, sweetie you should have run." He was right; he was now between her and the still open backdoor. She used that as an excuse to take a measured step backwards, dragging one foot; she knew she would only get one shot at this. "No, it's too late to run now," he stepped forward. She pivoted her head and shoulders as if she was going to run, but she didn't turn her hips. She took a half step forward just as he leaned to give chase and she kicked with one foot, extending her leg fully, her foot caught him under the chin; the two hundred thousand dollars she spent studying dance at Julliard now seemed worth every penny. She heard teeth snap and splinter and heard a crunch of something else breaking. He fell backward hard, hitting his head on the ground.

Without thinking she ran forward and leaned down, and sat on her knee his neck under her shin thereby cutting off his air flow. She sat on his neck like that, watching his face the whole time as his breathing slowed and his unconscious body fought for air. It stopped fighting and long after his face changed from red to blue, she still sat there.

She tried to send her mind elsewhere, she knew if a panic attack set in or if she started crying she might drown in her own mucus, she was also afraid that he might wake up. She felt shock settling in, she knew its effects well. A hand wrapped around her mouth and another grabbed her shoulder. She screamed and the tears came instantly and all of the sudden she was back there, to the first night they had her, one of the few times they were all there together. U_nseen hands were grabbing her, pulling her, she was suffocating, they were clutching her hair, biting, clawing, cutting, burning her flesh, laughing. _She screamed again as loud as she could into the duct tape and pushed backward and was unable to stand, her legs were asleep.

Someone was screaming at her, they were always screaming at her or at each other, encouraging each other to cross another line. "'Dora, 'Dora stop moving. Hey, stop! I'm trying to help you! Lumen, stop moving around," she started convulsing, he thought it felt like an alien was about to rip itself out of her. He heard gulping, choking noises and smelled and heard vomit being expelled from her nose. They were both sitting on their bare rears, she had pushed her back into his chest trying to get away, his arms were around her and she was still trashing around, trying to get away.

He grabbed under her chin and pulled her head all the way back to his shoulder as if she were a dog he was trying to force feed medicine to and ripped the duct tape off with his left hand. Vomit was projected upward like a fountain, splattering them both. He dumped her on her side unceremoniously, not because she was spraying him with vomit but he wanted as much to be expelled as possible. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to her knees. Her face was on the floor as her hands were tied behind her. He tried to move her hair out of the way, but she flinched away, he heard gasping for air and knew this was a good sign.

He reached up to flip the lights on and nothing happened, they were still out. It was dark, only the faintest of bright moon light shown through the open doorway. He knew the dark was adding to her terror. She had started struggling with the tape around her hands and elbows, there looked to be a lot of it. "_Get it off! Get it off of me!" _she screamed.

"Where are the knives?" there wasn't a knife block on the counter, he started pulling open drawers, she wasn't listening. He tried again with authority "Lumen Pierce, where are the knives at?"

"Taped under the sink," she rasped.

Even when he looked under the sink he still didn't see anything, feeling around in the dark he found it taped under the lip of the counter, completely out of sight. It wasn't a kitchen knife, but a military bayonet. He took a long stride over to cut her loose, he grabbed her to cut her loose but she was still freaking out, thrashing around, trying to tear herself free. "'Dora stop squirming around, so I can cut you free." She was still trashing uncontrollably, "You are really going to make me hold you down? Make fists with your hands at least, come on, and make a fist. Okay, you flex you muscles, come on like the hulk, you can scream if you want." She grunted and bowed her back as he cut her hands free, she tried to get up, "wait, there's more, do that one more time, flex for me…" he cut her free. "There, all done."

Seeing her purse he reached out and grabbed it, "is your phone in here?" She nodded. He found it in a side pocket, an Iphone. He flipped through the apps until he found a flashlight app and turned it on, the light was blinding at first. He saw that she was checking between her legs, he moved the light away. He got the keys out of the door and shut it and locked it. He sat the phone on the counter and checked the body for a pulse, it was getting cold already. He grabbed his feet and drug the body into the dining room, where the fight had started. There were too many windows in the kitchen and they had made a lot of noise. "Are you… okay, you know?"

"Yeah," her voice sounded like it came from a grave, undead. "You got here in time."

"Oh, I wasn't sure how long I was out," he sounded ashamed."Not long," she lied unconvincingly.

He saw she was about to lie down in a pool of her vomit, "hey, come on let me help you get cleaned up." She shrunk away from him, he shined the light under his face like kids telling a ghost story, "This is the face of a man you can trust!" and flashed an absurd smile.

She snorted, but allowed her to help him up. "Come on we both need to clean up, in more ways than one," he said as he stepped over the stiffs legs. "Which way is the bathroom?" She led the way without speaking or directing. He was helping to support her, one arm around her back, on her waist. The other was holding her forearm. "We need a shower, the water will be ice cold but in my experience, in situations like this, it helps. Cold water is pure; it leeches out the impurities and the wickedness, like a baptism."

"Are you a priest too," Lumen snorted.

"Yeah, I'm a Post Modern Renaissance man, besides performing weddings and exorcisms, I also enjoy cross stitching, cross-dressing, and polka music. I love long walks on secluded beaches with beautiful blonds that are half my age, listening to punk rock music, and dreaming about shooting up opium…"

"I think I'll go with bachelor number two Chuck," she rasped.

He sat her on the toilet and turned on the shower. "Funny. You go first, I'll be right outside. Try not to use all the hot water," he joked as he shut the door.

"Hey, wait." She stood up and came to him, "Thomas, thank you. _Thank you._ You couldn't have done better." She was bloody, bruised, covered in vomit, and half clothed but he didn't see any of that. He saw her eyes, full of determination and tenacity, but there was something else? Was it acceptance, resoluteness, or tranquility? It was almost as though she were making peace with herself. He sat the phone on the sink; still it was giving out the only light.

"Sure, anytime… Now get cleaned up, we need to figure out what to do," he slid down the wall outside the bathroom, next to the door and pulled it almost all the way closed, "I am leaving this cracked, so we can talk."

Lumen didn't answer, he heard her moving around, she opened a cabinet and he heard her sit down again. "I'm so sorry," he faintly heard her mutter, and then he heard a long _Click_…


	6. Backstory Chap 6: Shooting Blanks

Chapter 6

Shooting Blanks

Miami, FL: Lumen's drop house

Feb 27th 2011 (Over 1 year ago)

"No!" Tom swiveled, still sitting on the ground and pushed the door open forcibly. "No, you can't do this!" Lumen Pierce had finally broken, she was sitting on the toilet with a very large revolver under her chin. She wasn't crying or shaking anymore, which he took as a bad sign. He reached in to get the phone off the counter she whipped the gun down and fired a shot at waist level, "Whoa! Whoa! I was just reaching for the flashlight, keep calm and carry on!"

She put the gun back under her chin, she was steadying her breathing, she wasn't stalling she was going to do this, he knew it. "'Dora if you do this, what is going to happen to me, huh? You injected me with that shit tonight, I can't stop by myself. That's why you asked me to go away to an island with you; I know an intervention when I hear one. Do you really think that after this I am going to be able to get clean? I know you going away to an island with a guy like me was a huge leap of faith for you, but you wanted to make thanks right," It wasn't working; she was tuning him out, slowing her breathing, making peace with God. He had done this himself.

He started flipping through her contact list on her phone, "Look, you're not the only one that gets dealt bad cards. Look at all of these tattoos; they all are there to remind me of something that happened to me, most of it bad. I get tattoos because they can't be taken from me."

"Man, today has been an especially bad day. I was hit by a car on my motorcycle, which is now trashed by the way. I lost my job because I was lying on the side of the road when I should have been at work. Got to my rat hole of an apartment to find an evection notice on the door, not because I didn't pay but from noise complaints, I scream in my sleep. My most prized possession, my axe, my guitar, Monica, was gone. Damn landlord probably stole it. No matter how bad things got, no matter how bad I needed a fix back in the day, I never sold that. It was my soul."

"I was drugged, kidnapped, stripped, undrugged, forced to look at kiddy porn and had a close encounter with a scorned woman with reciprocating saw. The jeans you cut off me, I was wearing when my best friend, my only friend was killed, and his blood still shows on them, so I always kept them. That shirt my best girl bought me after she saved me from a crack house for the last time, she bought it from a roadside vendor because I was naked, like now. She left me after that because I couldn't stop. I found out that I have a daughter and now a granddaughter and I don't know their names, I think my daughter's is Claire." he had found what he had been looking for. He hit dial and when he saw someone picked up he hit speakerphone.

A man's voice resonated from the phone and her eyes snapped open, "Morgan. Somebody better be dead, or someone's going to be…" even though it had to be past 4am he sounded awake and alert.

"Bad choice of words brother, it's about to be both. My names Tom, I am here with Dora. She's got a gun under her chin and she does mean to use it, she's not playing around. I am out of ideas…" he said all of this very fast.

"I think you have the wrong number, I'm sorry but I don't know…" the voice started.

She pulled back the hammer again and slowly exhaled a sighing moan of completion and contentment at the same time, the type of sound a soldier would issue forth at the end of a fierce battle, his enemies having been put to rest. Dexter Morgan had heard that sighing moan of completion and contentment before, but in a completely different context. It scared him to hear it under the current circumstance.

Dexter blurted, "_Lumen_?"

Tom stammered, "Yeah, yeah, you know her as Lumen…"

Dexter continued, "Lumen please, you don't have to do this. You remember the girl I showed you, the one I made you look at? She would trade places with you in a minute, as would the other eleven. What about Rita, huh? I am sure she would've traded places with you if it meant that she got to see Harrison grow up, he is getting so big now. Just getting out of the terrible two's, I think the only word he knows is 'why'? So, tell me Lumen, why? I deserve an answer."

"What am I suppose to tell your mother, huh? How can I explain you doing this without telling her what happened to you? You think she could live with you doing this, not only losing a child but to know that she lived through all of it just to surrender. If you do this, those guys will win. You would be giving them what they wanted; they wanted to utterly destroy you. You are the strongest person I've ever met, that you survived is a miracle. A fucking miracle, don't throw it away. You have people here that love you and want to help you; I've stayed away, which hasn't been easy by the way." He paused for breath, never having given her a chance to respond.

Tom prodded, "she listening to you, her eyes are open. Keep going…"

"I will tell you something I've never told anyone. Something I never thought I would tell anyone. I never told you about Rita and myself. When I met Rita she was very damaged, as you are now. She was healing and wanted no physical contact at all which made her prefect for me. I used her as a facade; she was a cover story, so I wouldn't be noticed, 'intelligent single male that lives alone' and all that. I came to think of her as a farm animal. She was something I took care of and watched out for, and that was vital to my survival, but like all farm animals, I wasn't allowed have an attachment to her."

"I was completely incapable of love and since she didn't want a sexual relationship; we both had our uses for the other. After two years she finally healed and wanted to have sex and I knew I would need to discard the cover or live a lie. I chose the lie because it was easier."

"I never ever wanted to reproduce, but nature finds a way. I love Harrison, that's evolutionary programming that apparently even monsters get. I was thankful for her having given birth to him, I became used to her, and I knew my life was better with her in it. I became fond of her but," his voice sounded hollow and cold even to himself, "I _never_ loved her. How could I? She only knew the role I played, she never knew the real me and accepted me for what I was, as you did. I love you, you know I do. You can't do this. It would be a Greek tragedy, or Shakespearian. You don't want that. Put the gun down and let us help you. Please?" he implored.

Lumen moved the gun away from her chin, but gripped it harder than ever. She still had a fierce look of determination on her face, Tom didn't move. "That's a good start, come on put it down on the floor." Her face caved and the tears came, she uncocked the gun a put it on the floor.

Tom said gently, "now I going to come get the gun, but I'm not going to touch you, okay?" He slid in and took the gun, "now I'm going stand in the hall with the door open and talk to Morgan, get in the shower, now."

Tom took the speaker phone off and moved the light off of her but didn't avert his eyes as she got undressed, he saw her scars and he couldn't help but sway slightly. He thought to himself 'Two months, she was there for eight weeks. They had her sixty days and nights, Jesus'. The enormity of it all finally hit him. "Hey thanks man, she was really going to do it and I was just making it worse. Still, I'm sorry to wake you up to that."

"No, no problem at all. I am a single father of three, I never sleep. Sorry, if what I said was… out of place, not sure who you are…" he recanted.

"No, you saved her, I could care less how. I'm nobody, we just met tonight. We all play the same sport I think, but she didn't realize we are all on the same team. She's a great interior decorator, but her information gathering is for the dogs."

"Sounds like there is a mess there, what country are you in?"

"Homestead, I think."

"You're in Miami?" he sounded genuinely shocked.

"Yeah, she came to what she called her drop house to grab an overnight bag and some guy jumped her."

"Was she…" Dexter trailed off. "No, lucky for her she cut my clothes off. I was freezing outside. I came in just in time; it was a close call though. Guy was good, he almost did us both."

"Do you need me to come clean up?" Dexter offered.

Tom had not thought about that. Testing bolt cutters on femurs wasn't something on his bucket list and she seemed too out of sorts. "She has weapons hidden all over this place; I can't watch her and do it. That's really beyond what I do anyway, I'm a 10, 20, Life type of guy myself. You are way more extreme than me and I don't think she can handle doing it."

"So, it's her place?"

"She doesn't live here…" he held the phone down and yelled, "Dora do you own this place?" There was a long pause, "Yes, sort of..."

"What's the address?" He repeated the address to Dexter.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," they both hung up.

"He'll be here in twenty minutes; he is coming to clean up."

He got a towel from the closet and lifted his glasses up to rest above his brow to offer her some measure of privacy. He pulled the curtain back and wrapped her in the towel, she was shivering this time from the water and he wasn't relishing the idea of getting under it himself. "Sit here a second and hold these. I need to rinse off." He hopped in under the icy water, instantly giving an adrenaline rush. He was thankful for short hair and spent the most time on his hair, head, neck, and hands. He wanted to make sure that if they were pulled over he didn't have blood or vomit on him.

He jumped out and she handed him his glasses and a towel and just then the power came on illuminating the house for the first time. He saw blood all over the toilet lid, "I thought you said you were fine."

She saw the blood and looked confused a moment, "taser," she murmured. "We'll need to bandage that." She pointed under the sink, he looked underneath. He prepped a large bandage with athletic tape, "you wipe I'll stick." He applied it and told her to keep pressure on it. They walked down the hall and got dressed out of drop bags, emergency travel bags that she had prepped for her and Dexter even though they had never reconciled. Dexter's style American Apparel shirt he worn on kills was tight normally on Dexter, on Tom it was skin tight to the point of ripping, but in a good way. The color of the shirt worked well though and the military cargo pants suit him.

She scribbled a note and got her knife set from the car and left them on the counter. "Come on, let's go," she commanded.

"We aren't going to help him, or at least wait for him?" he implored.

"No."


	7. Epilogue Backstory Chap 7: Body of Work

Chapter 7

1999

The months wore on and the training not only intensified but more and more was crammed on them at once. Almost everyone was beaten down to the point of not wanting to sneak around on Friday nights. The most anyone was up to was sneaking out for a cigarette or glass of wine on the patio. Their only real time off was Saturday morning for the women and Sunday night for the men.

Nicky knew the reason behind this was to give the sexes as little time to intermingle as possible. She hadn't seen the professor on a personal level in months, but not for lack of trying. Everything happened on this island for a reason. Someone always conveniently interrupted them, or was using their spot already, or one of them was too hurt or tired to do anything physical. She began to give into the Saturday night shenanigans more and more, she knew this was the intended effect, but there was only so much celibacy a person could stand. It wasn't as if the men were unattractive either, for the most part. Sometimes they got to pick their targets, the girls choosing based on how well they did on past performances.

For Halloween they had a special treat planned, the phrasing of which put no one's mind at ease. Finally they told them that they were going to have a 'live fire exercise' where they were really supposed to really drug their targets while out of the site of others. They all had various devices used to employ various toxins on their person or in their rooms.

They all dressed up in costumes and she was told that her target would be a man dressed in black, but not Zorro, which was someone else's target. She was wearing a black satanic looking robe and hood with half of what appeared to be a goblin or green devil. She wore black gloves, boots, and lipstick.

She arrived at the party fashionably late as her status dictated. She tried to hug the sidelines of the party and saw that her costume was beyond conservative, women are such tramps at Halloween. At least now she understood where the trick in trick or treat came from now. But no where there did she see a man dressed in black, she circled the party that consisted of the three rooms and the hall, she check the outside patio and the hedge rows with no luck. She returned for the fifth time to the champagne table and returned to her usual spot in a dark corner when she saw a small note where she had been placing her glass earlier in the evening. On it was a single word, "Gently…" What was he playing at?

"Wow, you're still here?" ask Reina from beside her. Her rendition of Elvira was the next most conservative costume. "So, where is Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll? You might have scared him off with that mask…"

"Your nipple is hanging out and you got the roles backwards…"

"Oh, thanks, you are a Doctor though right," she probed as she adjusted her wardrobe malfunction.

"Nice try. What does this mean?" she handed Reina the note.

"Gently… It means he obviously knows you. It's not easy sharing a wall with you sometimes by the way. What's he dressed as again?"

"It said he'd be in black, but not Zorro."

"Did it say The Man in Black?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Have you never seen the Princes Bride?"

"No, a child prodigy isn't afforded a lot of TV time…"

"It's a character, The Man in Black. I think this means his lying in your bed… there is this scene… oh, never mind. Go, go, go… he's probably unconscious already from boredom."

"Wait, how does he know which room is mine?"

"It's been the only empty one all night would be the first clue… Go!"

It was with much trepidation that she turned the knob to her own room, she felt like she should swing in the window or something after all this time. He was indeed lying there on her bed, which was still made. A single candle was illuminating the room. His eyes were closed and his fingers were intertwined and lying on his stomach. He was dressed in a black swashbucklers outfit along with a mask that covered his hair and face. She slipped inside and silently closed the door behind her and locked it.

She said in French, as this was to be her characters' native tongue, [Forgive me monsieur…]

He cut her off, [What hideous sin have you committed lately?]

[I do not often attend the cinema, I knew not to what you were referring…]

"You are from Bordeaux, yes?" he asked in English with a British accent.

[I am sorry, monsieur. I do not speak English.]

[What are you dressed as mademoiselle? You should come closer, or else you were wrong to lock the door behind you.]

[Monsieur Faust…]

[Ah, a highly successful scholar, but also dissatisfied with his life, and so makes a deal with the devil. He exchanged his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures…]

[Quite a scholar yourself, I see. Are you certain about the last part,] she asked walking to the edge of the bed.

[Yes, quite sure… What have we here?] he asked as he raised hem of her robe with the sword that had been at his side.

[My modesty to be sure,] she said as she slipped the robe over her head but careful to keep her mask in place.

[Nothing to be modest about here, you look splendid…] he said as he looked her up and down, she was far slimmer than he had thought and with just her bra and underwear left, there was nothing for her to hide behind except the green rubber mask. She took his sword, noting that it was real, and leaned it against the nightstand. He took her hand that was both cold and sweaty at the same time and pulled her into the bed.

He had pulled her on top of him, but then he was on her somehow. She couldn't keep track of him much less keep up with him. He was ravenous, he was behaving as though they were lovers that had been kept apart far too long. He moved her body around as if intimately familiar with it. She had never seen this kind of intensity in a lover before and she was quickly swept away, like she was in slow motion. [Monsieur, please…]

As he was distracted, now pleasing her, she felt herself reeling. Her head was spinning and it felt like everything was zooming in and out. She wondered for a moment if she had been drugged and then realized that she had stopped breathing sometime ago. She took several deep gasps as she desperately tried to grab the headboard and pulled, trying to reach behind it, where she had a Syrette of morphine taped. [Monsieur, please… enough…please no more…]

He laughed, his breath hot against her skin, but it was a laugh that was all too familiar and suddenly she was struck with the horrifying realization that the man in black was Jason Bourne. No wonder he knew how to turn and flip and move her around, he only wrestled her for a month. She felt like a fool, of course they wouldn't have them practice drugging millionaires. She redoubled her efforts to pull away and felt for the Syrette, but he was faster.

Misunderstanding her statement, he held her legs as he sat backwards, pulling her back down the bed, towards him. [I couldn't agree more Mademoiselle, sorry to torture you so…]

[No, you misunderstand. Please…] but it was too late he was inside her. She looked up at his perfect blue eyes that she hated so much; they stood out against the black mask. There was haughtiness in his eyes that she knew all too well. He knew it was her, he had to. He must have realized the change in her eyes, seen the hatred and realized that she knew now too. He started pouring it on and she couldn't help but respond. She hated herself for liking it, but there was nothing that she could do to stop him. Not only did she move with him, but the series of commands and statements exuding from her mouth shocked even her.

When finally she felt herself nearing climax, she reached up and ripped that stupid mask of his head, he reached for it, to keep it on a second too late. She fumbled with hers; her face and hair were sweaty from being in the rubber mask. She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close and whispered in his ear so the bugs couldn't hear, "God, I hate you… Come on you jerk; do it…" He pounded on her with reckless abandon knowing that she would feel it the next day. She felt herself start to spasm and grabbed him by the back of the head with one hand and the cheek with the other. She threw her head back but rolled her eyes down to stare at him. "Now would be a great…" she started to whisper as he came.

"Ssshhh…" he hissed. Not that she kept tabs on him or anything, but he had been stuck on that island for a year with no girlfriend that she knew of and it showed. He threw her legs over his shoulders and pounded on her so hard that she thought that she was going to split in half, but she felt his release and she sighed even as he was still grinding on her. She couldn't remember which language to speak or even what her native language was so she bit her hand, behind the thumb hard.

[I am sorry mademoiselle, but I really must but going…] she felt something pinch her abdomen and suddenly all of her muscles went limp. [I'm sorry, were you looking for that?] he asked smugly as he tossed the Syrette into the waste basket. He went to her nightstand and opened the drawer. He reached underneath and pulled a piece of tape away and took the CD that had been hidden under the drawer. She he no idea what it was, apparently he had been given a mission as well. [I guess I could have just taken it and left, maybe I should have. You weren't quite as fiery as I expected, I mean really, what a disappointment…]

He came over and kissed her cheek mockingly and she whispered, [they'll kill me…] and he looked and saw real horror in her eyes, which pleaded for help at the same time before she passed out.


	8. Chapter 8: Rub a Dub

Chapter 8

Rub a Dub

Monday, Oct 29 2012

(Two days prior to chapter 1)

Apartment 10B Miami, FL

I, the Dutiful and Dedicated Dexter Morgan, was used to being on call and having to stop what I was doing at any given time to traipse off to a crime scene. The down side was that I still had to go in at 8am to grind out the rest of my forty hours a week. It was rare that I had the pleasure of working with a polite monster that killed someone at 8am on Monday morning, as was the case today. I was just finishing my breakfast when I got a call from Debra Morgan, my sweet but foul mouthed foster sister and the Lieutenant in charge of Miami Metro Homicide.

"Morgan," I said as my own way of messing with her, after all I always looked at the caller ID.

"…statement or question bro? We have a possible 1-87 and need a blood guy on scene, but I sent Masuka because it's a little close to home for you," I could hear her crooked smile through the phone, she was clearly bating me.

"Come on Deb, spill it. How is it a possible homicide? Either it is, or it isn't. Why it is too close to home and a 1-87 is the state of California Statute against homicide, we're in Florida dear sister. "

"Okay, I heard it on TV dork. How do you even know that shit? Dex, there is an ass ton of blood in here. Like a Roseanne Barr _metric_ ass ton; but we can't find any trace of a body and all four tenants are missing. As for the second question, step outside and look to your right."

I did as she instructed and across the courtyard Deb was waving at me. It was apartment 10d; it was a good fifty yards away in my complex but in the building more toward the parking lot. The two buildings sort of made a wide V shape, I was on one tip of the v and Deb was at the other.

"Damn, I'll be right over boss." I hung up without waiting for an answer. I grabbed my blood kit and my last piece of toast and ducked out the door. I walked more quickly than I normally would have, taking the stairs two at a time and walking across the lush grass because walking on grass was so much better for your spine than cement. I could see the maintenance man glaring at me for my daily transgression and I tossed him my friendliest morning nod and he gave me the finger as always, I love my daily routine. I pulled out my laminate as I passed him and ducked under the crime scene tape.

I saw Vince Masuka was standing at the front door; he was my partner for lack of a better word, no not that kind of partner… I have proper sentiment when it came to the same sex. He was putting on his HazMat suit, which from any normal person would indicate something serious but Vince is a hypochondriac and I was sure that he slept in a hyperbaric chamber. He saw me and put on his plastic fake smile, part of a façade he put up that I saw right through. "Whoa, Dex I got this one buddy," he said as he blocked my path.

"Since when do you do blood Vince? Deb said the scene was all blood and no body."

"It is! It's not as bad as the Ice Truck killers Blood Room, but this is REALLY weird," his smile looked real this time, sadistic.

"What Vince, did you have a date here last night? I see you're still in your body condom," I quipped.

Deb appeared in the doorway. "Ha-ha, good one Bro but I don't see his Astroglide," she was pulling me to the side; I took the chance to finish my toast the fresh orange marmalade was especially choice this time of year. "You might want to pass on this one, seriously. The bath tub is full of blood, the floor too." She gave me a knowing, but caring look. That's what she had really meant by saying, 'it was too close to home.' Two years ago I had discovered my wife's body in a tub full of her own blood. I still couldn't go in that bathroom without almost passing out. I nodded and said "thanks for the warning, but unless Rita's body is in there I should be fine. Let me walk in and have a look first." She nodded in approval.

The layout of the apartment was the same as mine, only flip flopped. I loved what they done with their kitchen; they had removed the drop down cabinets that halfway divided the room. It opened the place up nicely, but I'm not sure I could give up the cupboard space. I was a very neat monster, everything had its place.

I proceeded to the right to the bedroom, that's where the blood began. Perfect bloody foot prints leading out of the bathroom, they stopped abruptly in front of the bed. They almost looked like they had been painted or stamped they were so perfectly spaced and had an even blood pattern. But the feet looked real, size 8?

Angel Batista-No-Relation was squatting, examining the prints. "Hey, Dexterous good morning, we missed you bowling last night."

"… missed my handicap maybe." I said with a smirk, I really hate being called Dexterous and it was catching on. I think if I were to eviscerate someone and then admonish them as I stood over them as they screamed in mortal anguish, I just might be able to stop it in its tracks. I guess I would have to live with it; I let out a deep sigh.

"Sorry, to mess with you so early, didn't mean to start off your day on the wrong foot," he quipped.

"Yeah, I guess I walked right into that one." Bad jokes about crime scenes helped the people with souls cope; I always tried to accommodate the little people. I walked passed him, avoiding the blood.

The small bathroom looked nothing like the one Rita had died in, thankfully. The perfect bloody footprints led to the edge of the tub which was more than half full of blood: rich, thick, sticky blood. I hated blood at murder scene; it was always the messy result of a poor planner, or someone with small dreams. I much prefer immaculate crime scenes, like the kind I always left. 'Always leave the place as you found it' is my mantra.

Mike Anderson, a former Chicago detective, was here and was shockingly in a Body Armor athletic top and running shorts and shoes. I had never seen him in anything but a high quality suit. "Mr. Dexter Morgan, good morning sir," he greeted without even a hint of sarcasm. He motioned to his outfit and then stared at his watch, "you have thirty seconds: Go!"

I had to genuinely laugh at that, a man after my own heart. "What? Did you have a nice run?" I shrugged innocently. "I am sure they were hard enough on you... personally I admire your bravery and dedication to your craft." I said with a slight Japanese nod, which he returned.

"Thanks, I was more than a mile away when I got the page, had to run back and didn't have time to shower and change. I wanted to get a good look before too many people got here. What are your thoughts so far, sir?" He wasn't that much younger than I was, but I had given up asking him to stop saying sir and Mister, it was ingrained in his personality. The way he asked for my opinion was in an almost knowing tone, he had learned to trust my judgment, which was dangerous. It drew unwanted attention to me; my entire life had been spent trying to avoid scrutiny.

"The foot prints are completely staged, I would be surprised if they are even real human feet," I lied. "There are no drops of stray blood, just a perfectly spaced trail of footprints. The amount of blood in the prints is fairly constant, indicating that the feet or stamps had blood reapplied after each step, then carefully placed," I said truthfully. "The pace looks measured as well. Not really sure a murder happened here, not unless they were really careful cleaning up," I lied. "I should be able to detect that easy enough, unless it's been more than a day or they would have to be very experienced."

"Why more than a day, the blood looks fresh?"

"Because, if they did the murder and then cleaned up, we would still be able to smell the chemicals for at least 24 hours, they could have covered the blood with Saran Wrap then removed it later by lifting it from the middle like a circus tent. It would play with the estimated time the blood had been sitting. Or, they could have kept it refrigerated? That is all a lot of planning and risk of coming back to the scene and getting caught though. Easier to kill them elsewhere and import the blood or to set up a kill room here, importing the blood is the best bet, unless they really did bathe in it. Then at least one murders happened here, or they used the stove."

"Why?"

"Who likes a cold bath?" I asked incredulously.

"Athletes," he replied seriously. "Ice bathes help rebuild the muscles quicker. Most pro athletes take ice bathes after games. Blood supposedly helps prevent black eyes and bruising and well as being vitamin rich, as long as they don't have any STD's that is…"

"Hey Angel, go turn the ice maker in the fridge off, if it's on. Open the door to the dishwasher too." I yelled.

A moment later Angel leaned in the doorway, he was trying to avoid the footprints, "Hey Socio, why were you asking about the ice."

Every time he called me Socio I couldn't help but grin, it was similar to 'partner' in Spanish but of course is also the beginning of Sociopath. "We thought they might have wanted to heat or cool the blood, why? What did you find?" I inquired.

"Just the containers they put the blood in to chill or freeze, both the fridge and freezer are full of them, all the shelves, food and drawers have been removed." Mike and I followed Batista back to the open fridge; Debs voice greeted them, "what in the mother of fuck?"

"Well, now we know that they didn't kill them here," Batista said.

"No, we don't. The killer or killers could have brought blood from other sources then killed the others here." said Anderson.

"Why?" Debra wondered.

"Maybe because they were dealing with four people this time, maybe the other blood is animal blood and they wanted the human blood to be fresh, or maybe because their insane? Don't ask me I'm just the blood guy… I'm not the one you should be asking anyway," I snapped while looking at the ceiling.

"So, who would we ask to find out more?" Mike asked knowingly. He already knew, which means that he is dedicated, intelligent, and thorough. He was going to make my life harder in the future. Everyone looked at me quizzically.

"The FDLE for starters," the Florida Department of Law Enforcement was like the FBI only at a state level. "There have been a few of these, this would make the third or fourth. All were about a month apart I think. In St. Augustine it was an antique wine vat, the kind they use to stomp grapes in. There was another in Tampa, but it was in a small hot tub. All had blood, footprints, but no bodies." Anderson smiled, he was testing me but was it because he suspected or was he merely looking for a professional counterpart.

"Hey guys, move for a minute, not you Mike, I need your shoulder. I climbed on a counter, using Mike to steady him. "Top of the fridge is dirty, so it hasn't been wiped and there's no blood. He looked in the other room, "fan blades look fine, no blood on that ceiling knickknack shelf. We look good here…" What I was really looking for were staples; or rather staple holes and I in fact found them, high and out of the line of sight when possible. Of course there wouldn't be blood on the fridge or fan, because they had been covered up. I held my tongue for now, no need to teach them about how to set up a proper kill room. I needed to see more. I couldn't help but think of Lumen and started becoming aroused at the thought of her sweating in a hot plastic wrapped room and pushed it out of my mind, "Wow bro, what was that look for? I don't think I've ever seen you that intense?"

"I saw someone that reminded me of one of my ex's today," I lied.

"Yeah bro, who was it?"

I sighed, and gave her an incredulous look, "I don't know sis, and I didn't ask her out. Dating someone that looks like an ex is creepy."

"No, which ex was it you idiot!"

I gave her my best 'as if' look and she mistook it for a 'my dead wife you tool' look, "Oh, Dex I am so sorry. I'm an idiot, I'm…" and she stumbled away flabbergasted and I let her. No need to reinsert Lumen into my dear sister's thought process.

Deb spent some time hiding in the corner from me, while she gathered her thoughts on paper, preparing a statement, "So, we have a family of four missing. All Latinos, mom worked as a nurse, dad was a night watchmen. The boy and girl were in Junior High. No one has seen them since Friday at 5pm. Neighbors didn't hear or see shit. What about you, neighbor?"

Dexter protested, "I'm not your neighbor sis, I live here…"

"Ass," she stormed off to her presser. Luckily Mike and I are so well read, she was prepared when the press asked about the other two crime scenes and rather than looking like Astor when I caught her sneaking into the apartment last weekend she looked like she was all over it. She fed them the 'we are working with the FDLE and other police departments jointly to bring the criminals to justice' line.

When they asked what she thought about the name 'the BáthoryKiller', she clearly didn't get the reference but covered it well by asking simply 'Killer? Who's deceased? We are investigating a case of people who are missing under suspicious circumstances, but may in fact still be alive and we need the public to support us in the search for these fellow citizens.' She had certainly learned a lot since her first press conference, she was almost good at it now.

Two minutes later she pulled me off to the side asked if a Báthory was that 'water fountain for your ass, you know that the French use?' Of course I told her, 'why yes it is' in a tone so she knew I was lying.


	9. Chapter 9: Maxwell House

Chapter 9

Maxwell House

Monday, Oct 29 2012

Miami, FL

Lumen Pierce dodged and weaved through the horrific onslaught of the thousands of relentless homicidal fanatics, all out to see her broken and blooded. They cursed her with every breath and grew more and more agitated with every elusive move she made, she denied them all the ecstasy of seeing her… "FUCK!" She locked up the brakes and darted into the right hand emergency lane, narrowly avoiding slamming into the back of a panel van, "Pervert!" she screamed and laughed out the window as she stomped back down on the accelerator on the Taxi Cab.

Her face was a mask of firm determination, with the faint of hint of a Mona Lisa smile. Volleys of horns assailed her as her car rocked the trapped commuters in her wake. "Drive it like you bought it at auction Lu, because you did," she laughed with the hilarity of someone who has been alone far too long, "_I am not attached to this car, I am not attached to this car_… Thank you Charlie Crews! How is it that Damian Lewis is cute?"

She will always remember the look on the kids face at the insurance company when she asked what the maximum she could pay for insurance was with a wry smile, he had looked like he wanted to jump across the counter and come with her.

She took the next exit off I95, cutting off a commuter bus in the process. "Easy girl, easy now," she laughed. "Calm down Lu. I swear that reckless driving is an excellent substitute for sex, and homicide for that matter," she panted. "So, I guess it's really men's fault women drive this way…" she tittered. She hammered the rest of her Red Bull as she whipped into the parking lot of the coffee house where Dexter had met her so many mornings. She grabbed her backpack and laptop case out of the trunk and locked up.

The coffee house was still nearly empty, with just a few early risers there. One of the three window tables near the water was still open; she slid in and looked for the barista. She noticed that the coffee hound across from her was leering at her, so she stopped herself from taking her sunglasses off.

Coffee Hounds are the new breed of male pick up artists. No longer content to ply their inadequate pick up lines and smarmy demeanor in nightclubs and hotel bars, they now ply their trade at coffee houses. She used to hate the cheesy lines and rude staring, but these days, as a Coffee House Aficionado, what she hated the most about them was the way these bastards hound the really good tables the whole entire day. On a Sunday it's like a damn Hooverville in here, operation 'Occupy the coffee shop' was in full force and effect.

"Hi, Lu, how are you! No time no see! I thought that hunk made you give up coffee…" Lumen was fairly surprised she remembered her by name.

"Hi Max. No, he didn't make me give up coffee… no mans worth that," Lumen quipped as Maxine poured her a cup. "We just liked each other too much WAY to fast," Lumen rolled her eyes before she realized Max couldn't she them. She lifted the glasses, noticing the Hound craning his head examining his potential prey. "I can't stop thinking about him; I came back here to win him back. Got any advice?" The hound lowered his head, ears still perked.

She sat down across from me, "you break it off, or did he?"

"I did, BIG time. He offered commitment and I basically walked out on him. I thought there was something he had to change about himself, if I was going to be with him, but I don't believe in changing people."

She smiled warmly, "You are a wise woman. You can't change men Lu, or women for that matter. Why are you having the second thoughts sweetie?" Someone at the counter coughed.

"I realized how perfect he is for me and how miniscule the flaw is to me. The best analogy I can think of is, just because pedophiles are good with kids, it doesn't make everyone that's good with kids pedophiles. I was over obsessing on one thing that may never become an issue. The problem now is: how do I get him to take me back?" The man at the counter coughed politely again, obviously wanting service.

"If you were the male half and did this, it would be easy. I would tell you to buy something in a very small box that cost a whole lot of money, traditionally two months pay. Men are harder to shop for though. Buy him something expensive, strong, and masculine. Find something that will show your submission. You need to let him have the upper hand now or you'll never be equals. Let him regain his machismo. It sounds like you emotionally castrated him Lu; you need to allow him to reclaim his manhood before he can ever accept you." Max jumped up from the table to go to the counter to help the man with TB. Lumen took a gulp of coffee and saw the Hound licking his lips, 'great I made I contact' she thought to herself as she lowered her sunglasses.

Maxine returns to save her, "…you know I shouldn't tell you this," she says as she tops of my coffee. "But prince charming comes in here every few weeks. He was in here just a few days ago. He sits here staring into his coffee, sometimes for hours. Let me guess, he has never called or written?" Lumen shook her head. "Wow Lu, he really has it bad for you. He is still pining for you but respects you enough to not call and loves you enough to let you go… God you're going to make an old lady cry."

"You're not that old Max," Max returned to work the counter as Lumen got out her laptop and began her daily activities. Payroll, investments, emails, checking her calendar, and setting appointments. She had purchased a dozen businesses, all large cash business, to start a front for her wealth. All of them she bought for a fraction of what she would have paid a few years back. All were going under and bleeding red ink.

She looked for established business, with good locations, that were being run into the ground due to mismanagement. She had a daycare, a nightclub, a bail bonds, and a few others. One of her big winners was a laundry mat and pool hall that were next to one another, she bought them both and knocked part of the wall out and remodeled the insides, making both very hip. She made it a cool place where young people could bring laundry and play pool and have a beer. It was in a young neighborhood, renters who didn't own homes yet, and was a huge success.

She started them as fronts, but they were actually making a ton of money in their own right. The more she tried to get them to lose money, the more she made. She had been the chief financial compliance officer for a mega bank before, well before… so she knew how to move and hide money. She wanted them to fail so she could pump her ill gotten funds into them, but she was too good at picking locations. All of this was becoming actual work.

"Thanks for the talk Max, I don't want to let him get away and need to strategize." She slammed her coffee down harder than intended and reach for her purse, "No, Lu it's on me. Just bring him by when you get it worked out. Remember, something expensive, masculine, and tough." Lumen genuinely smiled and nodded knowing exactly what she was going to give him; she grabbed her things before the Jackal could muster up the courage for a suicide charge at Fort Pierce.


	10. Chapter 10: The Ivory Tower

Chapter 10

Ivory Tower

Monday, Oct 29 2012

Lumens Condo, Miami South Beach

Lumen's face was illuminated by her laptop; she was deeply engrossed in writing her first correspondence to Dexter. She had started to write it a dozen times and was always unsure as to how to start it. She sipped her coffee as she looked out the window of her condo that over looked the Atlantic Ocean. Far off shore she could see the cruise ships passing her by, making their daily caravan to the Caribbean. This was her real dwelling, not the fake one. She was always very careful to not be followed here and even switched cars midway.

The building was brand new and largely unoccupied, another casualty of the market crash. The security guards knew her well, they had a mutual understanding. She furnished them dinner usually, either take out or home cooked. In exchange they were well versed in what she expected from them. She always called ahead to have them wait in the garage when she got home and often they were nice enough to help carry things up for her.

She fabricated a story that her ex-boyfriend was a high ranking police officer that had stalked her and had abused her, she made sure to wear something that showed some of her scars once a week or so, to keep them on their toes. She said that Mr. Wonderful thought she was dead after he cut her up, and that there was a mysterious lack of evidence, so he wasn't prosecuted. She made it very clear that she had no male friends and anyone coming around asking questions, real police or otherwise, would meet a stonewall the size of the Great Wall of China. They also knew that if she came home with a male friend and didn't tell them she was okay; that it might be the last time they ever saw her if they took no action. They were to let them get in the elevator and kill the power to it and call the police.

They were a sweet bunch of retired policemen and navy guys and they all thought of her as a daughter. She felt a small pang of regret for any poor soul that did come here poking around. She wouldn't need to cut him up to dispose of the corpse. She knew simple lies were best, but she worked everything out beforehand and besides, who would question her story having seen her scars?

Where was I? Man, I have been having such trouble concentrating lately; sexual starvation is a slow painful way to die that should be banned under international law by the Geneva Convention. I had waited far too long to speak to him; my heart ached for him, amongst other things... I couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching me, save for him. Lack of sex completely ruins the ability to do even the most basic problem solving and caused an acute deficiency of the ability to focus. The severe inability to have meaningful relations with men, and not being a true disciple of Sappho from the Isle of Lesbos, has pretty much banished me to the life of a practicing Monosexual and here lately I've been practicing all the time.

A dirty secret that killers never share with normal sheeple is that killing someone can be a very orgasmic experience if it was done properly. Put simply, if all women knew how orgasmic stabbing a man in the heart was, men would be instantly more concerned with finding the location of the G spot and remembering to put the toilet seat down.

I had started killing on my own and I'm ashamed to admit to myself that I need it, craved it in fact. It has reawakened sexual desires in me that I long thought dead and without a proper outlet, or plug as the case may be, I feel as though I may go completely insane. Needless to say I have become more than a little cranky; the term heinous bitch comes to mind. Only now do I truly understand what Dexter had been trying to warn me of before we had started killing my former captors. Fuck, what was I supposed to be doing again! Oh yeah, the letter to Dex…

_My Dashing Darling Dexter,_

_ I have missed you greatly in my travels; your warmth has illuminated my night as I traveled the length and breadth of the known world. I have carried your light with me as went, but I find myself back in here as though pulled by an unseen force. I am sure we have many stories to share and I was looking forward to seeing you soon. You still watch over me in my dreams and I covet the short time we shared. I am a complete and total idiot to turn my back on you. If you still feel for me, I would like to come to you. I understand if you have moved on, or would rather not see me. I know that you find love more difficult than most and therefore find its sting is twice as harsh._

_ Your light against the darkness,_

_ Lumen _

A good first letter she thought to herself. Although she had typed it up, she put pen to paper and transcribed the letter and then scanned it into the computer. She thought that he would appreciate being able to read her hand writing. Although she wrote the email, she just couldn't bring herself to send it. After all this time she couldn't just send an email. She needed to know more about what he's been going though. She needed to talk to someone that knew him, but who?


	11. Chapter 11: Exit Stage Left

Chapter 11

Exit Stage Left

New World School of the Arts: Center Stage, Miami

Monday 1st period, Oct 29 2012

Astor Bennett was sick of this total ass hat trying to make a fool out of her every chance he had. So she had decided to do something she thought unimaginable, she put forth actual effort into her work. One of her drama instructors insisted of continually making her look like a total idiot in front of the whole class. She would have her assignment for the week memorized and he would jump to another act, or expect her to switch roles and know other peoples lines, last week he made her read as Hamlet… like the actual dude. 'Hello, his name isn't Hamletta you douche. Besides, that's what freaking understudies are for!' she thought bitterly. So, now she had memorized the entire play, all of it. 'Bring it, you Cris Collinsworth looking little prick.'

She strode out onto the stage and classmates nudged each other awake, the show was about to start. Then she saw something that made her stop in her tracks and her mouth fell open. "No, no, no, Miss Bennett pay attention girl! You missed your mark, 10 steps out then pivot right then you go into your monolog. Not 10 steps and stand with your mouth gapping like a…" the instructor stammered before turning to see what she was staring at.

So, unfortunately, Astor never got to find out what her mouth looked like; she had been staring at the back of the auditorium when the door had just opened and the Dean of Students came in with a woman, a tall hot slender blond, her hair shimmered under the lights in an almost angelic display. Astor felt like the floor was going to give way underneath her, the earth was spinning and she realized her hand was somehow on her heart. Why would she be here? "No, God please, no…" she wasn't sure if she said it out loud or not. She ran to the end of the stage and jumped down; she ran past her teacher and classmates in the front row of the auditorium, and down the isle of seats.

She pulled up a few feet from the Dean of Students and Lumen Pierce. Astor opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, her lip quivered and she snapped her mouth shut with an audible click. A mascara laden tear darted down each cheek. "Miss Bennett?" the principle asked confused. Lumen threw up her hands and stammered "No, Astor! God no! I am not here to bring bad news; I just need to talk to you for a minute."

"Oh," Astor said as she wiped her eyes. The Dean said, "Please do remain in here Miss Bennett. I will straighten things out with Professor Murray." With that her turned and left them to explain to the irate instructor.

Lumen motioned to the corner of the auditorium and they both walked over and sat in the cushioned seats, Lumen sat sort of sideways with one leg underneath and Astor took her lead. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about how that would look, I should have known better than to do it that way, especially with all that you've both been through," Lumen apologized, having forgotten that she had lost both her real parents. She wondered if either or maybe both times if she had been pulled from class to be told.

"How did you even get past the commandant, they are total tools…"

Lumen grinned, "I told them that I was with Big Brothers / Big Sisters and that you were my Little sister… I told him about my background and he thought it was brilliant that they placed us together…"

They had both changed since they had last seen each other. Lumen seemed a lot older, the lines in her face more pronounced, especially the frown lines. Her body looked toned though, as if she was doing yoga 24/7. Everything about her looked hard including her eyes. She was still tired looking, but more solemn and less jittery. She was dressed in a far more feminine manner, wearing a brown flowing dress and her hair, nails, and makeup were all very modern. Last time she had seen Lumen she had looked like a total exile from Guyville. She had always looked very tomboyish before. She had a healthy glow about her and her hair and nails looked well taken care of.

"You've grown a lot Astor, you're 'like ah total babe' now," Lumen quipped in a teenage girl voice, Astor had changed quite a bit. She had grown a foot and was getting her mother's curvy figure. Her hair was long again and she had learned to use moderation with her makeup rather than a paint sprayer. "Coming here for Drama huh? I'm sorry I interrupted you; you have to be very good to even get interviewed here. This place has always been big plus getting into Juilliard, I know it would've helped my chances."

"You wanted to go to Juilliard for drama?" even Astor could hear the awe in her own voice, "were you granted an audition!" Her mouth hung open for a minute, resembling that of Aunt Deb.

"No, not drama, I was a dancer. I was granted a few auditions; it took me a few tries to get in though." she beamed at the shocked look of admiration on Astor's face. "I graduated from there and I also have a Masters of Economics from Notre Dame."

"…and how did I not know these things? This is a scandal, an outrage," they both laughed. "Man, I have a million questions I wanted to ask you now. But, first of all why are you here and has it been you sending all the blank postcards on his fridge? Puerto Vallarta, Crete, Prague, Moscow, Budapest, Fiji, Zurich, Tuscany, Rio… and what's with Hoboken NJ?"

"Ha-ha, guilty as charged. I figured I would get more than a few laughs with the New Jersey one, you see normally I avoid third world countries." She looked down sadly as if ashamed, "sorry, they were all blank. I could never figure out what to say, I would just start crying. I came here to see you first, you're fath… Dexter doesn't know I'm back yet." Her lips quivered slightly and settled into a frown and she scrunched her brow, "is he seeing anyone? You know, I wanted to see him in person first, but I didn't want to mess anything up."

"No," she shook her head fervently, "no, as far as I know he hasn't spoken to anyone since he was with you. It's been years now, I feel awful about acting that way, but it was just _so_ soon…"

Lumen looked her in the eye, "That's the real reason I came to see you first, I didn't want you to hate me for showing up again." She shook her head as Lumen continued. "I wanted to be straight with you too. When you and I first met, Dexter and I…"

Astor cut in on her "Lumen, you REALLY don't need to explain. I was being a brat."

Lumen plowed on anyway as though she had never spoken, Astor could tell that it was well rehearsed, she had needed to say this for a long time. "I was going through something _horrible_ and Dexter was letting me stay in your old house because I had nothing and no where to go. We didn't even know one another really; I just had no other place to turn. We didn't realize we had developed feelings for each other until you called us on it. It was you that made us realize it for the first time. I swear we never laid a hand on each other before then. We got scary close to each other and we knew we were both too badly damaged emotionally to be with anyone at the time. I traveled the world, alone, wanting nothing but to be back here with him. I knew we both needed this time alone though…" she was fighting back tears, the good kind.

"Do you promise to never hurt him?" Lumen nodded. "Then you have my blessing; just know that if you ever do I _will_ cut you into little pieces." They both laughed, Lumen's sounded hollow, almost questioning somehow.

Lumen swallowed hard, "so, you think he would want to see me?"

She jerked her head around, "Are you insane? Yes, I am sure he wants to see you again." Astor looked at her sideways, "you figure out how you are going to how to make your grand reappearance yet? It should be _totally_ romantic," she put hand on Lumen's knee, which shook her head. "God, I swear you are both _completely_ clueless. Well let me see what I can come up with… Just get a little black evening dress and something nice underneath it and I will handle the rest, for both of you." she beamed.

Grabbing her purse Astor pulled her phone out, "you are open anytime I take it?" Lumen nodded. "What kind of operating budget?"

Lumen shrugged, "unlimited."

Astor flipped out her phone and hit speed dial number one. In her best administrative assistant voice, "Yes, may I speak to Mr. Dexter Morgan please? Oh, this is he?" she said sounding genuinely shocked. "I'm terribly sorry dear sir, I didn't recognize your voice; this is your daughter, Astor Bennett-the-eldest-child. I was wondering when would be a good time to set up an appointment to meet with you?"

Lumen was trying to keep from laughing out loud; she could hear the terse voice on the other end but couldn't make out the words. "Now is not a good time for games? No, no sir, I don't want to play games. I guess it really isn't _that_ important," she said switching to a slight ditzy voice, dismissively twirling her hair. "It's just that I've been taking these birth control pills that planned parenthood gave me, one every other day, you know to make them last, but I am not sure they are working. I also couldn't figure out how to breathe with the diaphragm thingy in, I almost strangled on the damn thing; it should really come with a child warning label or something, it poses a serious choking hazard! Breathe from the diaphragm my ass..." she scoffed.

Lumen had to jump up and run away in hilarity at this point. "Hey, hey, calm down," Astor laughed. "I just _really_ need to talk to you; I want to take you on a nice daughter father date. I need some _serious_ parental time," she said in a very Dexter like tone, "so I need to know when you're not on call. Tonight… yeah tonight works I guess. I am taking you to a _nice_ place though, suit and tie nice. You know, like the kind of place you should get a haircut and shave for, really shave, not whatever it is you usually do to yourself every morning." Lumen returned, her cheeks flushed, "I'll text you when and where, please be prompt…"

"Dad," she said seriously, "I love you…" there was just silence on the other end, "I know I've never called you that, but I really should've before now," she sounded genuinely sad."Thanks, you too, see you tonight."

She hung up and hit speed dial six, "Yes, Morticia please. Hey Morticia its Astor Bennett… yeah I'm great girl, you? No, I don't have a play tonight; I need to get a friend in today? Awe man, don't tell me that… she is my dad's girlfriend; she's been overseas for six months with the Red Cross. He doesn't know she's back and she wants to surprise him, if you can rebook people I will pay double your normal rate? Oh, yeah she _totally_ needs the works girl, she's been in the Belgian Congo or something for half a year and we need her wedding night style; she's going to surprise him at a black tie place. Cool she will come over right now." Astor hung up beaming, Lumen looked completely mortified. "Not a fan of spas?"

"No, not really I never was much of a girlie girl, even before…" she broke off.

Astor cut in thankfully, "Well you will be tonight. They are the best; she was good friends with my mom. She normally lets me go in for free. She won't begrudge you dating Dexter, she loves him to death, and she knows how patient he was to mom, because of what happened. Here's the address, go right now." Lumen had never known the details of what Rita had been through that required patience, but she filed it away for another time.

Later on that afternoon, Astor sent them both a message with time and place to meet for dinner. She swore to herself, 'they are both freaking romantically retarded; I'm surprised she didn't freaking email him.'


	12. Chapter 12: Dinner is Served

Chapter 12

Dinner is served

Monday night, Oct 29 2012

Miami South Beach

I, Dexter Morgan was less than pleased at the moment; I had a nice little number lined up for tonight on a rich aristocratic industrialist who enjoyed forcing people to sell their property for next to nothing through his clever use of politics, the legal system, intimidation, and if there were no other way murder. Raymond Kane, he owned half of the city already and he was busy stealing the rest, I couldn't wait to put him down. But it looks like I will have to, wait that is.

Astor had shelled those plans with expert precision; that girl was learning to play people like a champ, soon she would be bringing me doughnuts every morning. Her acting abilities were unquestionably helping her, but not with me, I had been acting my whole life and we can see through our own charades.

But, she did have a valid point. She had lost both parents; Rita and her biological father had both been killed. I had legally adopted Astor and Cody, but when their mother was murdered, Astor rejected me to go and live with their grandparents on their father's side. They stayed with them for a year before coming back to live with me. Technically you could make the argument that I was responsible for both deaths, but no need to burden the poor things with that knowledge I think they have suffered enough.

Why Astor wanted to meet was either something important, or she was lashing out for attention in a positive and constructive manner. I should be delighted to have her demand that I take her out, it was a lot cheaper than her burning something down, which was Cody's scene, or driving his SUV into a pool or some other 'lashing out teenager' nonsense.

Work was dead thankfully, so I was able to cut out early. After stopping for my involuntary haircut, I went home to shower and change. Upon entering the bedroom, I could see that she had been here. Clothes were laid out for me, a royal blue suit, white button down shirt and bright blue tropical tie. Not something you would wear to work or wedding or anything, Rita bought it for me when we were dating, to take her out dancing. It was perfect for Miami nightlife and the color made my eyes jump. Cuff links, shoes, belt, cologne, handkerchief, and comb completed my laid out ensemble. A quick paranoid check of my trunk later, to make sure it was locked, and I hit the shower.

After showering, grooming, and dressing I found Map Quested directions on the fridge with a note: _Dad, please leave here __BEFORE__ 7:15. You must be there __before 8pm__. -Astor. _It was weird seeing the word Dad written out like that. I put the note and map in my pocket and headed out. I stopped at the railing to admire the sunset for a moment, I heard something behind me and saw that there was a bad storm out at sea, I'd better get the move on or I am going to get drenched.

As I looked at the storm I felt a flutter of internal wings, the hair on my neck stood up, I felt like someone out there was watching me, studying me. I looked at the boats, none were familiar; you see I had been feeling this for months. I used to come out and watch the sunrise every morning, but I knew someone was out there. They had to be in a boat or one of the buildings on the far side of the bay, but it would take really high powered optics to see that far. It always felt like the spy was to the east, so they would be looking west, away from the sunrise… so it wasn't just another enthusiast. I waved and mouthed 'hi', I was sick of ignoring it but had no other way to respond then turned and left.

My ride to the restaurant over the bridge to South Beach was uneventful, merely three near fatal collisions and one brandished firearm. I really do love Miami traffic; it's the only time that I feel like everyone is just like me. I sprung for the valet parking and wondered if I was the only one who had the stop and think about if there was anything incriminating in the car before tossing the keys to the valet, of course there wasn't but it's always good to stay on your toes. As I walked up the sidewalk I realized, for the first time, that I had no idea how Astor was getting here. I guess if she laid out my things and left, she didn't need a ride. The 'Bistro Laurent Tourondel's Steak house'; the BLT Steak house for short, had 3 different dining rooms here at the hotel, I asked the doorman for the Rooftop Retreat per my instructions and headed to the express elevator.

The maitre d' introduced himself as 'Josef' and promised to provide 'the utmost fine dining experience' whatever that meant. "Ah, Monsieur Morgan your administrative assistant Ms. Bennett has given us your preferred dinner choices and has arranged everything, your meal will be prepared by the renowned Chef Thomas Servukoski and you will be attended to by the reputable Ms Sonja Mason. If you would permit me sir," with this he reached under the podium and retrieved a clipped white rose that he motioned to pin to my lapel, I nodded my approval. I couldn't help but notice the Rolex he was wearing and a pinky ring with an x across it, or was it a bow tie? 'Wow,' I thought 'I should have been a maitre d'.' The tips here must be insane and I am glad that I brought my Diners Club card; I wonder how long she had saved for this? How did she save for it, for that matter? Astor really didn't get a normal allowance and things had been tighter than normal lately. There had been a drop in murders and my over time was feeling the effect, 'wow, I'm too efficient, I am killing my way into the poor house…'

"You are just a few moments early Monsieur, I am to direct you to the piano bar until the rest of your party arrives." I nodded, "thank you Josef, please do..." He led me to the bar and offered, "Ms Bennett inquired about our batido de mamey, which is _very_ highly regarded. Please enjoy one at her request; if you so choose of course." I nodded, "thank you again Josef." He motions to the bartender and then leaves, the barman then starts preparing my drink, which is indeed excellent. The piano player changed songs, to Frederic Chopin? He was using an Ipad to hold his sheet music. There were only a few people here besides the bartender and piano player, a sign of the tough economy, I thought as I stared out the window.

The sky was almost completely dark at this point, the view was still marvelous. The current was very choppy, I could see a storm far out to sea, the lighting arced across the sky in a beautiful display of terror and destruction. I stared out the window for a long time with no internal dialogue, completely at peace with myself. The rain finally broke in a torrent and buckets of water were almost instantly cascading down the glass.

I heard someone come in and looked in the ghostly reflection in the window, without turning, I didn't need to it wasn't Astor; it was a tall blond woman. 'What the hell did Astor tell these people?' I wondered. I heard the woman speak softly to the piano player, requesting a song, "certainly madam." I could see the piano player flipping through the Ipad, wonders of modern technology. She walked to the end of the bar, looking out the window as well.

It was a song I had never heard before; the last few of verses caught my ear and I couldn't help but think of Lumen:

She was standing alone in the dirt

And her eyes were so dry that she began to cry

And something began to hurt

She wanted to tear the hair out of her head

Yeah and she wanted to wish that she was dead

But a voice in her just would not let her drop

And her heart began to break but it didn't stop

"Run all you're races

And don't you fear

You and I

Are getting out of here

And we'll survive

That I guarantee

Cause you don't need much

When all you have is me"

She listened to the little voice in her

And then she hit the road

Free at last and with just a tiny scar

And finally on her own

No one knows what became of her

All we know is she got away

And though there really ain't no guarantees down here

I like to think she did okay

The woman walked closer, I could see her eyes in the reflection, and they were looking at my back, not out the window. "I hope you pardon the deception, Astor told them that your long lost soul mate had come to beg for your forgiveness," said a soothing soft voice.

I swallowed hard, it was her. I could even smell her now, she smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla and I wondered if the combination was for my benefit; due to my love of baked sundries, or if she had worn it before we met. I couldn't turn around; I felt like I was frozen in place and time, like an insect in amber.

I suddenly realized as she shifted her feet that more than a minute had gone by of my staring at her reflection, "Are you real?" my voice was dry and I childishly reached up and placed my hand on her rippling reflection, not and unjust question… after all I was prone to imaginary friends. She walked a few more feet forward and placed her left hand on top of mine. Then she took it and turned me, placing my index finger on her lips.

She looked radiant, her hair was worn up and her makeup was perfectly done, as she must have looked on her wedding day, she had been a gift that had been beautifully wrapped but never given nor enjoyed. She had a single red rose tucked in her hair. Her dress was black and strapless; she was slightly taller than me in her very high heels.

I saw her take a deep breath and realized that she had been holding it and as I admired her neck line I saw her jugular was pumping a mile a minute and she swallowed hard. She was shaking slightly and at first I thought it was in anticipation, then I realized it might be fear, her not knowing how I would react to all of this in a very public place.

I had to move and stop staring but I found it difficult to. I let my face go and play itself into a goofy but real smile and I removed my finger from her lips and I held my hand to her cheek, I could feel my bottom lip quiver and she nodded in affirmation and leaned forward slightly. I craned my head to meet her in the middle, kissing her gently at first but she would have none of it. She kissed me feverishly, tasting of strawberry daiquiri and lipstick which blended quite well with my coconut, mango, and vanilla from the Cuban smoothie.

She melted into my arms, but we stopped kissing before causing a complete spectacle of ourselves. We held each other for a long moment, "Lumen…" I began… "Shhhhh, there will be a lifetime for that Dexter, if you still want there to be," she sighed as she rested her head on my shoulder as the sound of her voice saying my name echoed in my ears.

"You never did anything that needed forgiveness, you were right to leave," I stated softly. I felt her tense up and quickly added, "We both had broken wings, and they had to heal before we could fly…"

She blinked rapidly, "you're a romantic?" and she smiled softly as she placed her head on my chest.

"All monsters are, it's a secret we keep closely guarded…"

I am not completely sure how we started dancing; just slow rocking that quickly turned into a full scale competition, each pushing the other, a battle of endurance, dexterity, and wills. I eventually lost all three, she was way out of my league and eventually I could tell she was trying to help me save face. Neither of us had known that the other even knew how to dance, much less dance well. We danced long enough that Josef had a proper table brought in and set up for us in the bar near the window. Our food came without our needing to order.

We ate with reckless abandon, in no way resembling two people who wanted to enjoy a quiet romantic meal, but of two children who were told they couldn't go back out to play until they finished their dinner. Astor had ordered porterhouses for us both; I thought Lumen was a quasi-vegetarian but she seemed to enjoy every bite. I drank two 'Iron Beers', a Cuban type of cola, before I realized that I hadn't even asked for them. Near the end of the meal she finally spoke, "Wherever did you learn to dance that way? You're amazing!" she asked gapping.

I opened my mouth but hesitated before speaking; I was never adequately able to judge how exactly to talk about ex's to current lady friends, it always involved anger or crying and no matter which was the case it resulted in a ruined evening and hurt feelings. Identifying my awkwardness, she assured me by laughing and flashing an unadulterated yet knowing smile, "It's not a trap Dexter Morgan, now that I know you were dancing with a girl, thankfully, proceed... "

I smiled back, "Well, Rita and I met though Deb. Back when Deb was doing patrols she would end up at Rita's at least once a week," I was smiling trying to let her know I wasn't bothered by talking about Rita. "Her husband was a heroin junky and crack head. He would beat her, rape her, and bring home a plethora of STDs as the cherry on top," I dropped the smile slightly as to not appear creepy.

"God, that's horrible," she said.

I continued, "Well he finally went too far one night and broke her arm and jaw, knocking her out. He then laid into Astor and Cody and hurt them both really bad too, since she wasn't able to stop him. He broke some of Astor's ribs and punctured her spleen; she was always terrified of him after that. They all had to stay in the hospital for awhile," I could see the fire burning behind her eyes; she was gripping her knife so hard that her knuckles were white and as arousing as I found that, I tried to quickly move on.

"So, Deb laid in to him pretty hard with the nightstick and threw the book at him, he took a nice visit up state. I think Deb gustoed up the changes a bit, she knew the next time he might kill her. She's always had a soft spot for kids too and Astor still remembers Deb saving them." No need to ruin the atmosphere with the fact that I ultimately caused his demise.

"Deb and Rita had already become friends over the years and eventually she convinced us to both meet, figuring we would be a good match. Well, it worked out great because neither Rita nor I necessarily wanted a sexual relationship, far from it." She looked shocked and a little confused; I pressed on to try to avoid the need to clarify. "So, at first we would exercise together to burn off the sexual tension, but there was no intimacy at all, it was like sex with a stranger."

"Ah, so you turned to dance because of the unity and togetherness it instills, like making love?"

I nodded, "yes, and so for the first two years we danced all the time."

"Wow, that's incredible. That explains so much about how you knew what to do, with me I mean. You had been with someone else that was… the same way." I nodded knowing that the word she almost used was 'damaged'. Too bad Lumen didn't realize that I have never really looked at her as being damaged, but as having been melted down, forged, and sharpened to a keen edge.

Suddenly, apparently realizing the conversation was headed down a dark path she said with a broad beautiful smile, "Let's get out of here; I already paid when I got here. I just need to tip the maitre d' and thank the chef." she stood up. On the way out she handed the maitre d' a thick envelope, "thank you so very much for the impeccable service. The cash is for the entire staff, the coin is for you…I am going to thank the chef, he is a friend," the maitre d' nodded. She ducted into the kitchen for a moment and returned blushing fiercely.

The maitre d' nodded warmly, "the pleasure was all ours, you both dance magnificently. We look forward to seeing you both again soon."

We walked to the elevator, "you gave him change?"

She laughed, blushing freshly… she pointed back to the maitre d' station, he was holding up what looked like a gold coin. The elevator opened and we got in; I whispered for some reason, "Was that gold?" She laughed and nodded as the doors closed.

"You remember how Alex offered to pay us off?" She smiled at the scandalized look at on my face, "so, you took someone up on the offer?" I asked.

"No!" she laughed, "but this time I asked how much and he had a safe full of wonderful things. So, I told him I was incorruptible, but I did have certain materialistic needs and took the money anyway."

"Wow, never really thought about doing that," I knew I sounded kind of conflicted, but impressed at the same time. People had of course offered me money, drugs, or sex to let them go before, but I had never had someone on my table that actually had it there to offer.

"Well, I don't plan on making a habit of it, but it's not like we are funded by UNICEF. Besides, I consider it to be workman's comp. I don't know if I will ever be able to work a normal job again… I have issues with being around lots of people and enclosed places kind of bother me. It's not really like claustrophobia; I just can't deal with being indoors for long periods of time. But, don't worry I won't do it again, there is too much risk of corruption and I don't want to mess with anyone that high profile for awhile. Now enough business, you want to _really_ go dancing?"


	13. Chapter 13: The Other Man

Chapter 13

The Other Man

Monday night, Oct 29 2012

Downtown Miami

Lumen took me to bar downtown; it was not a touristy type club, but a hip hop club in the inner city. She explained that she liked dancing in the poorer areas of the city because the dancing and music are better. Not only did she walk with confidence to the door, but she was apparently 'on the list'. One of the largest men I had ever seen was working the door, he was just short of 'Little Chino's' 6'9 but he had Chino by about 30 pounds of ebony muscle. He spoke with a heavy Creole accent, "Good evening my Lady. Here on business or pleasure this evening?" he asked as he put an armband on her.

"Pleasure hopefully Trey, how's your Modelaine?"

"The operation went well, thank you Miss." He looked at me holding my arm out for a band and I saw his muscles tighten, I think I actually heard them constrict, almost sounding like an archer pulling back a bow. He looked at her as if asking an unspoken question.

"Oh, Trey this isn't the man that hurt me, he is actually the one that saved me," she held my now incredibly small and inadequate arm.

He nodded his approval and put on my arm band and shook my hand, "Mesi, then you are truly my friend; I am Marckens Romeo Solaine III, they simply call me Trey."

"Dexter Morgan, it's nice to meet someone else who would like to get a hold of that guy." He nodded with a flash of murder in his eyes and I returned a flash of my own. He waved us on and spoke into a throat mic, the kind the military wore, "Miss Jones is here with a Caucasian gentleman in a blue suit. Prepare her table and keep an eye on them, you copy Rod?" She was too far in the club to overhear the exchange and I wondered if she knew that she had Guardian Angels here.

The club seemed to cater to Haitians most of all, and was playing hip hop tonight. She was well received and given a wide berth by those that saw her walking through the crowd. I wondered exactly how many skulls had been cracked by Trey on prior evenings to receive this kind of crowd effect. She was obviously in a club she had no business in, but no one was going to tell her that. The word was evidently out that she was 'Trey's bitch' to use the prison term; she was strictly hands off.

She was given the main booth in the VIP area and drinks were comped or on a running tab and she drank a bit on the heavy side, but it made her very elated and flirty. I had never seen her as happy as when we were dancing together. She was in her element.

Afterwards I drove her home to a nice high rise building on the beach; she pulled out her phone to alert security that she would be arriving. She introduced me to the guard, Carl, behind the counter as though she was introducing me to her father, which he quite well could have been by the way he was eyeing me. He had me show my ID and log into a visitor's log. She explained why in the elevator, all part of her sculpted security plan.

The door opened to her floor, 13 which I thought of wryly, and we got out. We walked to her door, she swayed her hips a bit more than normal, either do to drink or the dancing, or most likely somewhere in between. At the far end of the hall, her peep hole could see all the way down the hallway. She nervously fumbled with the keys; unlocking the door but not opening it she turned and squeezed my hand. "Now Dexter, I need to introduce you to the other man in my life… wait here a sec, and _don't_ open the door." She pressed her index finger to my mouth, "be right back." She opened the door and slipped in, leaving me in stunned silence.

"Other man in her life…?" I repeated out loud, what was she trying to...? It hit me like a frying pan over the head, the thought of her opening door with a child in her arms struck a twang of mortal fear in me that I had never before known. Fear was an unknown creature to me, a mythical beast that only existed to primitive people. When Rita blurted out that she was pregnant I had felt totally confused, flabbergasted.

This time there was nothing but complete and total abstract horror. I couldn't help but lament how far the elevator was or else I could make a break for it, I even turned to double check and saw it was headed down. She opened the door wide and saw the stunned look on my now pale, blood drained face and looked puzzled. She motioned me in and I stumbled, clubfooted, through the entryway feeling like a vampire going across a threshold uninvited. I looked around wary for some sort of trap.

"Now he is _really_ smart but with your previous experiences I knew that you wouldn't want to come if you knew before hand. Dexter I would like you to meet Zeus, Zeus meet Dexter." She motioned to a German Sheppard sitting in the corner behind the door. He was sitting perfectly still, showing canines and his hackles were raised but he was not barking or growling.

I put my hand to my heart and involuntarily sighed, "I had a panic attack in the hallway; I thought you were going to open the door with a kid…"

"Oh, no," she waved dismissively, "the baby is sleeping…" my eyes opened wide before she let out a small snort of laughter and put her hand over her mouth, grinning she quipped "I guess three children are enough for you Mr. Morgan? I wouldn't have kept it from you that would've been cruel." It sounded like a statement, but it also seemed to be an inference that it could only be mine, sort of, good to know without having to ask.

"Well, I hadn't really thought about having anymore, but then I didn't really think about it the first time either. I was of the prior opinion that monsters shouldn't reproduce."

"Oh…!" she said with her eyes wide. She then oddly handed me a carrot, which I stared at stupidly. She then looked at the dog and said, "Herr Zeus, Bekannter! Okay Dex, slowly step forward and hold out the carrot." I walked forward with the carrot extended until the dog took it, glaring at me the whole time. He held the carrot in his mouth and kept staring with hate filled eyes; it made me wonder if he was Sgt Doakes reincarnated. "Bekannter…!" she repeated. "Zeus!" she said in a scolding tone. The dog tore his eyes away reluctantly in a very Doakes like way. "Wache…!" she pointed at the door. He lay down, with the carrot still in his mouth. "Gut Zeus…" It was eyeing me again and I could imagine a Doakes like voice saying, 'I'm watching you mother fucker…' Animals and I had a mutual hatred of one another, especially dogs. I always assumed it was because they thought I was there to kill their masters, often they were right.

"Wow, you're right, dogs do hate you. I was telling him you're a friend; he apparently has his own opinion. Come on, he'll leave us alone now," she pulled me energetically into the living room. "He cost me fifty thousand dollars but he makes me feel safer than a security system, he is a trained military guard dog. He can track people and sniff for drugs, explosives and cadavers too. He will attack and kill anyone coming in here unless I instruct otherwise. Just ignore him and he will ignore you. I need to freshen up, give me a minute. Make me a drink will you, strong like my men…" she gave my arm a squeeze and left. She had a full standing bar against the back wall, complete with refrigerator. She had limes and mint in the fridge, so figured she liked mojitos.

She returned as I finished the drinks, she poked her head the corner smiling. "Please step into the middle of the room and close your eyes good sir." I complied with just a small amount of apprehension. I couldn't hear her walk over to me, but I could smell her. "No peeking…" I felt her hand on my hip and it slid down to my knee as she knelt in front of me. Then I heard the very distinct sound of metal dragging on metal, a blade was being drawn, a very long blade. I swallowed hard and for some reason became very highly aroused, the monster in me awoke with a start and I heard a dark rolling chuckle.

"Egh hmm…" she coughed obviously wanting me to open my eyes. She was kneeling down in front of me on both knees, her arms extended, and her head deeply bowed in submission. In her outstretched arms she was holding a gleaming metal sword, a Katana, the weapon of the Samurai.

She said in a soft serious voice, "My intentions as a lover are true and honorable. _I lay all my fortunes at your feet and pledge to follow you, my lord, throughout the world. _If your intentions differ, please make a quick end of me."

I took the sword, carefully. Its hilt wrappings felt ancient, I could see the use on the flat of the blade but the edge was razor sharp, as it moved through the air the blade almost seemed to whisper to me, it had a dark whisper of its own urging for blood and combat. This sword wasn't a tourist piece or a movie prop, it was all too real. How many criminals had the ancient samurai dispatched beneath its steel, or had Lumen for that matter?

Looking down, she was still bowed. "Please stand before me," I said trying to sound authoritative as possible.

She stood slowly keeping her head bowed and eyes down. She had changed clothing, she was wearing two wide strips of white cotton, like a sash over each shoulder which covered her breasts and met in the middle, held together with a belt, the remaining cloth hung between her legs. She looked like a virgin sacrificial offering that was to be fed to some beast, I thought wryly, and the beast within chuckled again giving his nod of approval of both offerings.

I put an arm around her naked waist which was cool and damp as though she rinsed off, "I now hold the two most beautiful and deadly things I have _ever_ seen… Did you know a katana is never to be drawn from its scabbard without drawing blood?" She nodded and bit her lip, in a cute childlike display of being in trouble.

On impulse I pressed my index finger to the point of the sword ever so slightly, drawing a bead of blood. I moved the point slightly towards her; she reached out and pricked her finger as well. I held my hand up, palm out, she did the same. We pressed our hands together, our blood intermixing. "I pledge myself to you Lumen, my mind, my body, and my soul."

"My soul, my body, and my mind, I pledge to you Dexter Morgan." She held her bloody finger to my lips and I followed suit.

I placed my sword gingerly in its sheath.


	14. Chapter 14: Do you care if we just

Chapter 14

Do you care if we just…

Tuesday, early in the AM October 30th 2012

Lumen's Condo, Miami

Once again we assailed each other in a battle of strength, endurance, and wills. We barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of his clothing on the way. She pushed me backward onto her enormous and opulent canopy bed; the entire bed was round and had curtains that could be closed around the canopy. I was in a sitting position as she undid her belt the two separate pieces of cloth, almost like sashes over each shoulder slid to the ground. She looked marvelous, tremendous muscle definition across her body including a washboard stomach which was a new feature on this year's model; she had evidently replaced her coffee binge drinking with exercise. Her breathing was irregular and with lust in her eyes, she blurted, "…do you care if we just…" I shook my head vigorously not really caring if I understood, would was ready to do whatever she wanted, which surprised me. But I was fairly certain she wanted to cut to the chase, I know I did...

She placed a hand on my shoulder, more to keep me in a sitting position than for support and wrapped her legs around me, almost Indian stile. She lifted her hips for a moment before settling onto me and then descended on me, unguided. Hours of dancing had served as foreplay enough for both of us and they were rampant with anticipation. A soft heavenly moan escaped her lips, eyes rolling back for a moment when I was at last fully inside her, I started to rock my hips but she shook her head, "No, no wait a second." I felt her tighten around me and her legs squeezed against my rib cage as she pulled my hair, gentle but firm.

She shuttered with a miniature orgasm and pressed her forehead against mine, "wow, just wow."

I smiled, "yeah ditto, I am throbbing…"

She smirked, "I know, I can feel… God, you feel so good," she had a look like she had done something wrong, "sorry, is it okay to say God?"

"I prefer Dexter when possible, but God is fine in a pinch…" I smiled.

We held that position a long time, grinding with each other in unison to music that wasn't there, only pausing to allow me to still myself as needed. The position was comforting in that we both had equal power and control, while still allowing for eye contact which was very important to her.

Later on, for a moment while we were in missionary position, clasping hands, I shifted my weight more to my arms and I saw a split second of terror on her face at the feeling of being held down. I released her immediately and she smiled widely and quickly nodded her approval to continue.

She came to orgasm again, strongly this time. I felt her digging her nails into me hard, which I surprisingly enough liked. She never was a clawer before, but it felt right and I increased my pace and ferocity trying to push her over the edge. She sagged completely spent, but knew I had missed my wave, as I patiently waited to make sure she got there. "Dexter lean back a bit," she said breathlessly. I complied and she moved her legs up to rest on my shoulders, then she took one foot at a time with both hands locked her feet behind her ears. She heaved a sigh imploring, "go, please, go. I said I would never ever let anyone do this to me."

With her legs effectively removed from the equation, I was able to go deeper than otherwise humanly possible. I was aghast, I wasn't aware the human body could do this, while alive anyway. "Are you sure, I don't…" I started to ask completely taken aback by her display.

"Please, please just do it. I want to give you this," she panted. The thought of doing something otherwise forbidden to other men and the inhuman way she was contorted, almost looking dismembered, was too much for the monster in me to ignore. I came to orgasm after a few moments, powerfully but without ejaculation; something I didn't realize was possible outside of a kill room. I unlocked her legs so that they gratefully collapsed beside me.

I lay on top of her for a moment completely motionless looking into her eyes, which looked heavy from exhaustion. I was thinking about her screaming at Alex Tilden that he had made her do things she would've never done, and the realization that she had just willingly let me do something she never wanted anyone to do to her spread through me like a fire. I asked somewhat timidly, "Lumen, I really don't want a baby in the other room, is it okay to…?"

She blinked at me as though I was speaking Hebrew, "…wow you didn't…? It's always okay for you to do that," she smiled gently, pleased that I had asked first. I made single small push to make sure I was fully inside her and relaxed, allowing my release, spilling into her. Her eyes opened wide, surprised, and she put her hands on my cheeks, "oh, wow… God yes…" she laughed coyly. She lazily pulled me close, her eyes closing.

He lay on top on her until their sweat cooled, lighting flashed outside, very close by. She could tell he was sleeping lightly and was surprised she didn't feel trapped with his weight on top of her, but rather felt warm and as though she was in the safest place on earth and wondered if this was how full term babies felt in the womb, confined but loved, warm, and safe.

A short time later, Lumen nudged me awake, "Dexter, please let me up. I need to take Zeus out." I moved off of her and she rolled out of bed, the lightning flashed close to the building and it made her hair and scars light up. She opened the closet and pulled on running clothes and shoes. She took a shoulder holster from the closet and threw it over her shoulders; I saw the flash of a badge opposite the gun, clipped to the leather just like Batista wore his. It wasn't a police badge, or any type that I had seen before. She then threw on a wind breaker. I rolled on my side, "you want me to come?"

She laughed, "Again? Absolutely, just wait for me to get back… Dexter, I have a killer attack dog, a gun and I'll make the guard watch me. Besides its raining, criminals don't go out in a thunderstorm. I'll be back in five minutes."

"What's with the badge?" he asked.

"It's a long story; I'll explain it when I get back," she called over her shoulder as she left.

Zeus was more than anxious after all he still was just a dog, but he was still standing his post. She grabbed his leash even though he didn't need it, and left to go downstairs. On the way Zeus stopped and 'pointed' at the door closest to hers; she felt it too it was as though someone was just on the other side of the door. "Gut Herr Zeus, freigabe!" She commanded the dog onward, hand inside her windbreaker. Once inside the elevator, she positively reinforced him again. "Gut Herr Zeus it was very good of you to bring that to my attention," she scratched his chest for a moment. She texted Dexter, _STAY inside. Don't open the door, for anyone. Someone is in one of the other units, they should all be empty. It might just be a guard but I doubt it. _She had no idea his phone was still off.


	15. Chapter 15: Seventh from the right

Chapter 15

Seventh from the right

Tuesday, early in the AM October 30th 2012

Lumens Condo, Miami

I, Droopy Dragging Dexter felt sleep closing in on me fast, but I forced myself out of the bed and to my feet. I was unwilling to fall asleep until she returned, despite her reassurances. There was a reason she had taken all of these security measures and remembering Rita's death made me feel like a fool. I had taken no protective measures whatsoever before her death or after for that matter. As I pulled my underwear on I noticed that she had left her closet open and I saw on the bottom of her closet there was a nest of pillows and blankets as well as the teddy bear I bought her the night I saved her. Kind of a foolish thing to do, but I had no other idea on how to ease her suffering. Everything she's done and she is still sleeping in the closet. I closed it closed out of politeness, not wanting her to know that I saw that she still felt vulnerable.

Walking back to the bar I put fresh ice the mojitos. I didn't really look at her condo before, having been distracted, but opulent was a conservative adjective to describe it. It was obviously professionally decorated and by one of the best, no expense had been spared. Thankfully, the color palate lacked any pastels, which are still over used in Miami, but contained rich royal purple, gold and green… Marti Gras colors, and I wondered if this was intentional. Despite the ludicrous amount of money she spent it felt disconnected somehow, almost hollow, because it showed nothing of who Lumen was. I realize now it was as my apartment had been before children intervened. Everything had its place but was chosen as a front. It was a good false front, just as mine had been; it was completely designed to fit a specific role she was playing. "Jesus, Lu how much money did that man give you?"

Very few things that showed that a person lived here were present. There was an autographed Dan Marino Miami Dolphins jersey above the bar, but there were thousands of them in Miami so I didn't noticed it before. A small plague read: _Dan Marino Game Day Jersey: His last game. Playoffs: Alltel Stadium on Jan. 15, 2000. Miami 7, Jacksonville 62._ I remembered that game, it was a slaughter, as bad as the score looked it was far worse. I'm surprised the jersey hadn't been burned in effigy. Technically I think half of the Jaguars Defense now fit the code due to that game. I had seen the jersey earlier but just now realized that Marino had worn #13 which was proudly on display. It was a constant reminder of her captivity, having been the thirteenth girl to be abducted and filmed by her tormenters. The video we had found that recorded the first of countless attacks on her was simply labeled 13. No name or date, just the number 13.

Her condo was much larger than it appeared, it was apparently two units that she had knocked a wall out of, similar to what I had done, but on a larger scale. In the opposite room as the bar, its mirror image was a game room with a pool table, dart boards, and several pinball machines. On opposing sides of the pool table were what were technically statues, but they were hanging on the walls like pictures. It was a hammerhead shark that had been cut in half and sealed in some sort of fluid. The left wall was the normal shark, the right wall showed the cut away so that you could see all of the insides. I recognized the artist immediately; it was a Damien Hirst, my favorite artist by far. I had seen a whole exhibit in Paris while on my honeymoon, he is really cutting edge.

The mirror image of her bedroom was actually three smaller bedrooms. One had basic bright colors and shapes painted on the walls and had a large toy chest and a bookshelf full of children's stories, the ones with the gold spines. The next room had a space theme but was done by a pro; the planets looked 3D and almost seemed to move. It had a telescope, microscope, and an electric guitar on the wall. The third was larger and had a more adult theme but had a TV, a small piano, a lit makeup desk that was fully stocked, and a huge walk in closet. I had walked a full ten feet away before I realized what they were, and it made me swallow hard. She wanted us, all of us.

The only photograph I saw in the in the whole apartment was along the back wall of the den, over the sofa. It was very long, panoramic almost, showing a long stage with people lined up. Walking over and looking closer, a small plague read: _Michael Flatley: Lord of the Dance. Opening Night Feb 19th 1999 Radio City Music Hall New York, NY_.

"Seventh from the right," she was so close behind me that it made me jump. Zeus had made no noise either, looking down he had no loose hanging dog tags, good to remember.

"Huh," I said startled.

"Seventh from the right," she repeated, pointing to the picture.

I leaned in and looked at a young Lumen, with a huge bright smile and full of life, "Wow, is that really you?"

"Yes," for the first time I noticed her voice was flat and hollow. She had her gun out and half raised, pointed down the hall, her face was all business. "Zeus, suchen!" The dog ran through the condo room to room, apparently searching for something, or someone. She whispers, "You didn't get my text," it wasn't a question. "Someone has been in the hallway, I think they are still in the condo next door and I can't find the guard. I am the only current owner on the whole floor. No one is signed in at the register." The dog came back without incident. "Herr Zeus, Wache das Alamo!" The dog ran behind the bar, she followed motioning me onward.

"Is that German?" She nodded and she squatted behind the bar.

"They are trained in a different language to keep enemies from being able to confuse them." She opened a cabinet underneath the bar; instead of liqueur it contained a lap top. She sat it on the bar and whispered, "Here are the video controls for the hall camera; we got in around 2:30, see if anyone came up after us."

"Aren't you going a little overboard?"

"There's no nice way to answer that question Dexter…"

"…and what's the not nice way?"

"I never want you to come home and find me in the tub. You've been doing this too long, you're jaded. What we do is very dangerous and I will treat it as such if we are going to live this life. If you don't want me to be paranoid we can always give it up and go buy a farm somewhere." She could tell it stung, but I got it.

She got up to leave, but he protested "Lumen why don't we just…"

"That's still the wrong voice. Why doesn't Dexter the lover let Dexter the Dark Defender out to play please?" she snapped quietly. I nodded. She reached under the bar top and I heard Velcro ripping she came back up with a SPAS12 assault shotgun that she sat on the bar next to the sword. "Eight shots, it's semi-auto you don't need to pump it, safety is off." She held up a long silver tube, a dog whistle, "if the dog runs don't try to stop him and feel free to follow."

She had clearly planned a defense strategy out, so I went to work skimming the video. She slid behind me and lithely trotted from the room. I saw her get what looked like a portable DVD player from a closet near the door. She looked out the peep hole before ducking out the front door. I started skipping through the video until I saw us come up at 2:33; I couldn't help but admire both of us. I was always surprised to see myself on film; I never thought I was good looking until I saw myself on video. Her carefree walk was just as enjoyable from the front. I sped ahead until I saw someone come up and slowly walk down the hall, just a few minutes after us. It was the security guard that had signed us in, which answered at least two questions, who was there and why the guard was gone. Maybe he was sneaking off for a 3am nap? Not likely.

I slid out from behind the bar and tried to run as quietly as I could to the door. Lumen was lying in the hall way watching the screen and had something jammed under the door. I understood faster than most people would have, I had seen SWAT do this. She had a miniature night vision cam on a flex cable jammed under the door and she was watching a small TV that was displaying what was on the other side of the door. I squatted next to her and whispered, "Guard…" She looked perplexed for a moment and nodded. She retracted the camera and we both stood up and went back inside. She motioned for me to be silent, she blew the whistle twice but no audible noise came out. The dog came running and she ordered it to guard the door.

"Looks like he is in there at a card table with a laptop and he either is masturbating or has the worst case of jock itch ever," she whispered. "Nothing we can do tonight, shower and bed?" I nodded. Her shower was huge and had multiple shower heads, but we pointed them together to shower close together anyway. We both liked our showers to be scalding hot, and then cold at the end to cool down to avoid sweating. We collapsed into bed naked and were both asleep almost immediately.


	16. Chapter 16: Blue Berry Muffins

Chapter 16

Blue Berry Muffins

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Lumen's Condo Miami, FL

I, the day fearing and dead tired Dexter awoke to the sun rising over the water, the fiery orb banishing the darkness and my beloved moon. I could smell coffee and saw a cup by the bed on a TV tray along with eggs, sunny side up, bacon, a blueberry muffin, and a glass of juice. The clock said it was 6:49 with its demonic red numbers, I cursed it mentally.

"Good morning my champion, didn't you rest well," she said from somewhere in the room, but I couldn't see her. I marveled at her hearing, as I had opened my eyes but not yet stirred. Sitting up and tasting the coffee it was perfect and rich, "Wow, this is better than Deb's coffee."

"Why thank you good sir, lots and lots of practice. So she makes a good cup?" she sounded surprised even to herself.

"Oh, hell fucking yeah," I said in a quite good impersonation of my adoptive sister.

"Can we talk about what happened last night?" she sounded like she was under duress.

"You mean two hours ago? Sure…" I said groggily. I got up and walked around the corner of the massive, larger than king sized bed it was easily the size of two queen-sized beds and circular, at least you didn't have to figure out which way the fitted sheet went when you were making the bed. She was flat on the ground at the foot of the bed stretching in the shape of and H, legs all the way out horizontally. "That's kind of vague though, a lot happened last night," I said collecting my suit that she had hung up for me.

"Fair enough," she grimaced while stretching. "You don't need to put that on, I will take it to the cleaners, I need to drop off the payroll there anyway. Look in the left side closet near the window. Socks, underwear and the non-slip shoes you like are on the trunk." I did and found a row of khaki pants and blue button down bowling shirts and a row of American Apparel brown shirts that I wore to kills and green cargo pants.

"Wow, thank you. I guess I am a creature of habit," I laughed as I got dressed, I could tell the clothes had been in the closet a long time, they had a very 'winter clothing' feel to them as if they had been in there a year or more. She obviously had wanted this for a long time.

She was doing splits when I was done dressing, "can you give me a hand?" I helped her up, "thanks, I swear getting up is harder than doing it at this point." She sat on the bed and motioned for me to sit next to her, which I did. "…about last night," she held out her cut finger. "I was pretty drunk so my memory is impaired, so forgive me for asking, but were you kidding around or did you mean it?" she screwed up her face, her voice sounding as it did when she had asked if I had watched the DVD her tormentors had recorded.

I tried to show gentle warmth on my face, "you were tipsy, I wasn't. Not only did I mean it but nothing has ever felt more natural to say. I belong to you, whether I like it or not. You're the only person who has ever really known me," I squinted slightly, "…did you?"

"Of course I did, I have never felt anything so powerful in my life. Are you happy with our blood oath, or should we get a license or make it official or something?" she asked tentatively.

"It sure feels official to me right now. There are benefits to it being legal, but that's all that paper would mean to me and I certainly don't want to scare you off," I said gently but honestly. "What we did last night was more real and held more truth than any wedding I've ever been to, I just want what you are comfortable giving. Skipping the procession and reception and going straight to the wedding night is surely the way to go though."

She snickered, "Yeah, cheese trays are way over rated. She tugged on the collar, "I saved you a forty minute drive in the wrong direction," she said pushing me down.

Twenty frantic minutes later I was pulling my clothes on while cramming down the blueberry muffin. A quick kiss later and I was out the door and running to my car. Normally I wouldn't have called Astor this early, but she deserved it. Looking at my phone, I forgot it was turned off. Switching it on he saw Lumen's text and one from Deb that he would read later and 4 missed calls, two from Deb and 2 from unknown numbers.

I speed dialed Astor; she picked up immediately, "hello, my loving yet gullible father. How are _we_ this fine morning?"

"_We_ are wonderful this morning, thanks to you. Everything went _very_ smoothly, you should consider a career as a wedding planner."

"No, way man, I want to perform on Broadway like Lumen. Did she tell you she went to Julliard? Can I audition? Wait what! Did you get married?" she gasped.

"No," I laughed honestly, "we didn't technically get married as in a service, but you can call us highly committed. I thought you were really just buttering me up for birth control pills. I see we have bigger dreams though."

"Ugh, no I am still technically fourteen even if I don't look like it anymore. Let's hold on to that open mindedness to the idea for two years, shall we?"

"Nice try, who said I was open-minded? But, yes two more years of sleeping easy at night would be greatly appreciated. You know that Julliard is _really_ expensive right? Med school might be cheaper."

She sounded sad, but it was an understanding type sad, "I understand you're a single father of three, but if I can get an audition, can I please tryout at least?"

I thought about it as I was unlocking his car, "yes. If you can get an audition, you can try out. In the mean time study as hard as you can, you'll need a scholarship to go." She squealed on the other end of the phone, "Hey Astor, I need to go but I just wanted to let you know that I… love you very much."

"I love you too dad."


	17. Chapter 17: Plenty of Closet Space

Chapter 17

Plenty of Closet Space

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Lumen's Condo Miami

It took Lumen Pierce almost no time at all to pick the lock of the empty apartment, mainly because she had practiced on the locks on her floor to the point of having them memorized.

She had donned her kill suit, black spandex pants and top with a thin hooded green long sleeved shirt over it. Fanny pack and gloves completed her outfit, which she often went running in. She slipped into the empty condo; Zeus had gotten no hits on it. She did a quick walk thru, no one was there. She saw the card table behind a door along with the folding chair, but no lap top. She looked through the cabinets in the kitchen with no luck, and then checked the bathrooms. She was about to leave the master bath when she heard a whirring noise start up. Looking around, she found it on top of a bathroom cabinet.

She unplugged it and took into the kitchen, careful not to close it. She made sure she was out line of sight of the door, in case he came in before his shift. Opening it, he still had 4-5 windows open, but minimized. Upon maximizing the first Explorer window, it brought up a porn site, InTheCloset, nothing too shocking there. She hit the browsers back button.

A streaming video started playing of a heterosexual couple having sex missionary position. Nothing shocking there either, she saw the girl claw into his back and saw him grimace as she came to orgasm, her eyes widened just before her realization was confirmed, "Dex lean back a bit," she heard herself say breathlessly. She saw herself as she moved her legs up to rest on his shoulders, then she took one foot at a time with both hands locked her feet behind her ears. She heaved a sigh imploring, "go, please, go. I said I would never ever let anyone do this."

She realized that the video had stopped long ago and that she was staring at a blank screen with her mouth hanging open. She wasn't sure what she was most appalled by most, the violation, or that the most erotic night of her life looked tame on film compared to the effect it had on her mind and body.

She popped out her phone, _Dex I need you here- Lu_. He quickly answered, _I miss you too, but I'm working. I promise to help you with that again tonight. Dex x. _She took a picture of them when she had her legs behind her head and sent it. There was a very long pause this time. _Put everything back exactly like you found it and get out of there. I am guessing you already made plans on how to clean up, and I am also guessing you don't need to go shopping. Let me know when you're safe. _

She flipped through the videos on the site and to her horror they went back a year. Her sex life had nearly been non-existent, but she was more concerned that certain other activities could have been recorded. Most of the videos were of her coming out of her closet in the morning, hence the clever website name, and stretching, which she sometimes did topless but rarely naked. There were videos of her changing, showering, masturbating, and even the night she brought that hot red head back here. It proved an interesting evening, but only demonstrated to her that she wasn't into women.

It also had a video of her and Tom Servukoski, a friend and employee of hers, frantically kissing and stripping each other one night a year ago. They had both opened up and shared in both the NA meeting and the Survivors meeting just after. It had been a very emotional charged evening and that night with him was more about healing than intercourse for them both. It was powerful, but not something that would go beyond that night, they had both known that. Neither ever felt awkwardness or made any sort of move to reinitiate what he commonly referred to as 'inner vaginal relations' after that.

The largest section of videos was titled waterworks which issued forth a whole new level of disgust and revulsion, but luckily was just videos of her crying. The one with the highest rating was her opening a letter in her living room and collapsing into a state of complete and total hysteria on the floor, she almost broke down again thinking about that letter, 'focus Lu' she thought out loud.

The section she opened last had the fewest videos but she dreaded it the most, it was titled 'Slash and Burn.' It had four videos in it. Two were compilations of her holding various body parts over open flame for as long as she could. One of her from a year ago when she half heartily tried to cut her wrists in a hot bath; she didn't cut very deep but the tub went red vividly, she was mainly just trying to feel… something, anything. Another was from two months ago, the day she got the letter, she had gotten blind drunk and swallowed a whole bottle of Oxycontin. Luckily she passed out face down and drank so much alcohol that she vomited up most of the pills while unconscious. One or two must have made it down though; it showed her passed out, face down in the bathroom room where she periodically vomited while unconscious. The video started skipping time, showing her completely motionless for almost twelve hours.

She put the computer back very reluctantly, exactly as she found it. Even if they eliminated Carl and hurled the computer from the rooftop, it still didn't change the fact that the website was on a remote server somewhere. She locked up the apartment and went to run her normal errands, it was Friday and people would be expecting their pay checks and now she had an additional stop to make.

She had purchased several businesses, but she went to Adams and Sons bail bonds last. She had stumbled onto the idea on becoming a bounty hunter, but quickly realized it was the perfect cover for her extracurricular activities. She wasn't sure that there was ever a Mr. Adams or that he had sons, she bought the business from a man named Sullivan. The office was small; it had a bulletproof front counter, like a 7&11 and a large metal door that she was buzzed into. It had an area behind the counter, 2 small offices and a closet.

"Hello, Dora I am hoping that last evening went far better than today has now started?" Trey quipped in his thick accent. She had met him through the bar, which was one of the businesses she owned. He had needed more income and she had suggested working as a 'bounty hunter' which was a title that was actually illegal to use in Florida, you had to declare yourself as a "limited surety agent" or a "professional bail bondsman" because the state felt that 'bounty hunter' implied guilt.

"Ha ha, you're a funny guy. Is it that obvious that it was a late night?" She did feel a little hung over and tired, but that was normal. Her anger was not. She dropped the payroll off at her office manager's office and turned and knocked on the closet door. "Yeah…?" called a confused voice. She opened the door and stepped into the small space and closed the door.

The room looked like an old custodian's closet and still had a large sink on the floor that took up a quarter of the room. The only furniture in the office was a small elementary school desk with matching little orange chairs which looked like they had been saved from the dump, one of the chairs was in the sink due to lack of space.

The man sitting in the other chair, Thomas Servukoski, made the little furniture and tiny office look even more comical. He had his feet propped up on the desk and was typing on a laptop balanced on his legs. While he was nowhere near Trey's staggering size at only five eight, her height as well, but he was pure muscle mass and every part of his body except his head and hands were covered in very old tattoos. His grey hair alone betrayed his age of just over fifty, but he had one of the toughest faces she had ever seen and he always had a look of deep concentration bordering on intense anger. He very much reminded her of Henry Rollins, the poster boy of the Alpha male. The ridiculous horned rimmed glasses he wore added to this mystique and she is certain that's why he picked them out. He was wearing ripped jeans, Doc Martins as old as he was, a prehistoric band tee shirt that showed off his perfectly sculpted body, over which he was wearing a Brooks Brothers suit vest with shiny brass buttons. The vest was an oblivious dig from her asking him to dress 'a little' more professionally since he mainly worked in the office. The cherry on top was he was sucking on a cherry flavored Twizzler. Normally she would have appreciated the humorous apparel, but not today.

"Yes, Ms. Jones?" he asked sarcastically; they were the best of friends. He said without looking up from rapid typing, "You might want to bust that check book back out, I tracked down Phillip Jackson finally. Trey and Carlos are on their way out to get him if you feel like breaking a few nails." He was her skip tracer, tracking people down electronically. He was really good at it, as she herself had learned the hard way and he worked on a straight commission basis, finding Jackson was a huge payday for him if they were able to nab him. He normally worked as a chef and actually had prepared their meal the night before, by random chance Astor had chosen his workplace.

"Thomas, can I talk to you for a minute?" He understood the seriousness, the graveness, in her voice. He sat up and put the laptop on the desk and brushed off the other chair. It was stuffy in here, and she felt the walls closing in.

"Oh, wow. You knocked and called me by my full first name; if you used my middle name too I'd really be in trouble." He motioned for her to sit, the only time she had called him Thomas and not Tom or Servo, his nickname and apparently some sort of Sci-Fi reference, had been that night so long ago.

"I don't know it." she said looking down.

"It's Eugene, but please don't tell anyone."

She snorted and smiled a little, "Really?" He nodded gravely, "afraid so."

"Thomas, I have a problem that I can't fix myself. I need your, expertise…" she said humbly.

"If we hadn't met the way we did, I would say I'd do anything for you 'Dora. But as long as it doesn't involve ritual mummification, I'm your guy." He relaxed his face, trying very hard to look warm and compassionate.

She was unable to speak for a few minutes. She was breathing heavy, he wasn't sure if she was trying to keep from crying or to control her anger, most likely both. An ancient wall phone next to him rang, he switched the ringer off. "Dora, what's happened? Last night did Dexter…" Tom questioned.

She had her eyes closed tight, then they snapped open, "Oh, no… not that. That went really great. "God this is embarrassing… Tom, I found out that some creep has been recording me at home and has me on a website, has been for a year." She opened her eyes and saw him shake his head as though clearing cobwebs; he took of his thick glasses and tossed them on the desk, it sounded like the desk might break from the abuse before the glasses ever did. He rubbed his eyes and she wondered if he had come here last night, straight from his other job. "Some creep was what?" he has incredulously.

"He was," she started again but he cut her off, "Yeah I heard you," he was looking at her eyes, but she knew he could barely see her without glasses. He put them back on, "okay, now I am totally down with the whole Suzy Saran Wrap thing. Where does he live? Or, did you need me to find out?"

"No, I can take care of that," she breathed out slowly. "You used to hack into systems to upload… things; can you hack in to take them down?" He used to hack into child predator's computers and upload child pornography to hidden folders, so the parole officers would send them back upstate. Servo had come to Lumen's attention, her thinking he was a child pornography producer and dealer, she had him on her table and had almost killed him by mistake.

"Hell yes. Well maybe I can," he back peddled. "It's according to how high tech the site is. I'd have to look at it first. What's the web address?" He flipped the laptop open.

"Tom, I would really prefer…" she trailed off.

"…that I not look too close. I get it. Besides fact that you're the only friend I have, you're my daughter's age. Anyway, we have already seen each other _in flagrante delicto_."

"Yeah, about that…" she rolled her eyes in a circle and nodded to the computer.

"Son of a Bitch, where is it?" he demanded.

"IntheCloset," she said with her eyes closed.

"Oh… okay," he said obviously trying to not sound astounded. He typed in the address to bring up the site.

"It's not like that, I have a ten thousand dollar bed and I sleep in my closet," she said sheepishly.

He looked at her seriously, "I'm so sorry, 'Dora I really am," he said remorsefully. "I really could've gotten you a better deal, I know a guy that knows a guy… Seriously, I've been there, you know that. You're also the last person that this should have happened too." He turned the Laptop so she could see what he was doing. "It's not a high dollar site, so it's not impossible, but it isn't a push over either. Good news is that you're the lone subject matter and it's a pay site, means less traffic and less exposure. It will take a lot of time unless you have access to the mainframe, or the admin passwords."

"I know where his laptop is that's receiving the signals? Can you copy the whole site, videos, client lists, and screen shots, all of it?"

"Yeah, the laptop sounds perfect. Yes, I can copy the site or mirror it. Let's go… take me to it." He grabbed a laptop bag and stuffed the computer in along with some discs and cables from under the desk.


	18. Chapter 18: Zoot Suits

Chapter 18

Zoot Suits

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Miami Metro PD Building Miami, FL

Every 3 days Metro Homicide has a meeting on the open cases to keep everyone abreast of their various cases and to share ideas and thoughts about their cases to their colleagues in order to get different perspectives. Occasionally, when other agencies were in on the investigation it also served to share information, which was the case today.

"Who are the Zoot Suits?" Dexter the Dashing whispered to Batista.

"That guy on the left is Tony De Marco with FDLE Homicide," he was a smaller man at 5'8 and of slight build. He appeared to be over fifty and had a very book smart but useless look about him.

"The FDLE must not have catch and release policy," I whispered.

He laughed, "Guess not. The lady and I have yet to become acquainted, but her badge is FBI," he said in a predatory tone. "…unless you're interested Socio, I would begrudgingly defer, she does seem to be your type." He looked at me seriously, "We need to get you back in the game my friend," he offered in a completely distracted tone.

I laughed, "She's everyone's type," to which he laughed. "I had a hot date last night actually. She took me to BLT Steakhouse and then dancing, we danced for four hours. I am a little saddle sore amigo. I think I might have a good thing going on, but I appreciate the offer to 'play through,'" I stated earnestly.

"Anytime my friend, I need to find my God Children a mother…" he nudged."Anyone we know?"

"No, I met her a few months after Rita past but it was just too soon, she was going through a break up too. She bumped into Astor the other day and Astor set up a surprise meeting, things went really well."

"That's tremendous," he slapped my arm, "nothing like dancing to bring out the old pasión springing to the surface. Is this that CEO Banker?"

I squinted my eyes at him, "how would you know anything about my ex-girlfriends?"

"Fuck, see that why I hate that stuff. I never could've worked undercover. Deb was worried about you because it was so soon and had me look into her," I couldn't help but sit up straight, "hey Socio, she asked me to do it because she didn't want to pry."

"Great, so she had you do it," I scoffed.

"She just asked me for an unbiased opinion, thumbs up or down, that's all. You were in a real bad way bro or I never would've done it. We just didn't want some 'Lila' screwing up your head, that's all." I looked at him angrily still, unable to break eye contact, "hey, man I'm sorry. I don't pry or gossip or judge people, that's why she asked me… Come on Dex if you would've met Lila then, what would've happened huh?"

'I would've killed her?' I thought, 'so nothing different really'. My eyes softened and I shook his hand, "hey, sorry Angel it just looked bad." He nodded. "So, do remember what you found out?"

"She was a ballerina who tore her Achilles and fell back on some financial degree from Yale or Brown or something and got a mid level executive job at a mega bank. She uncovered a huge money laundering and fraud scheme that had cost the company in the hundreds of millions of dollars which was being run by the executive in charge of anti-money laundering and fraud. He had been running it for years and they gave her his job so she could root out any co-conspirators. She was right below the board of directors and reported directly to the board."

"Wow, I didn't know all of that…"

"Yeah, she was on the fast track. Then she left her fiancée at the altar in front of a thousand guests and fled to Miami. Not sure what she does now, but she was on leave then…"

"Thanks Angel." I realized that the Fed had been watching our exchange and I wondered if she could read lips, 'I can certainly read hers,' I thought as she licked them.

I certainly had proper sensibilities when it came to the opposite sex, but I long ago understood that what I found attractive and what other men did drastically differed. I loved strong women, both in will and body. I also valued athleticism in the abstract, not sports per say, but dexterity, stamina, power, and endurance; basically what made you good at sports, even if you never played. Lumen's dancing was a good example, she was world class but that transferred to the ease and grace of motion she had in everyday life, from the way she walked to the way she stood up, it was all a display of grace, beauty, and power.

Most men just wanted a sexy figure and pretty face. Sometimes the two intersect like they did with Rita. I knew other men thought she was very attractive, as did I, just for very different reasons.

The FBI agent was like Rita. She appeared to be of partial Caucasian and Asian descent, I thought Japanese, and she got the best of her Asian ancestors in her thick luscious hair, perfect complexion, and almond eyes. She was taller and larger than typical Asian women at near 6 feet tall and was shapely both in curves and musculature. I mused that I should have been working for the FBI all these years, their training would result the non-Dexter women being culled from the herd. She exuded power, both mental and physical. I hadn't heard her open her mouth yet, but I could tell she was sharp as a razor. I saw her studying everyone in the room slowly up and down, examining them. I would have paid good money to hear her inner thoughts right then. She was working up profiles, assessing them.

Debra entered briskly and started the meeting. "Good morning. First of all some of us have had the pleasure of working with Tony De Marco from the FDLE before. He is here to brief us on the other apparent Báthory cases to see if this one fits. This is FBI Special Agent Aida Connor. The FBI is involved by _my personal request_ guys, so please do play nice with her. She is here in the hopes that this is a kidnapping and not yet a multiple homicide. I'm sure everyone in this room would rather find that family alive. Before we turn the meeting over the Agent De Marco, Dex did the blood work comeback yet?" I knew my dear sister well enough to know that she was distracted and nervous. She had finally started acting more relaxed in meetings, something was bothering her.

"The DNA work hasn't come back yet, but of the four victims they had three different blood types and all are present in the tub but not in the containers. The rest of the blood is non-human, positive for bovine blood; cow blood."

"Thanks Dexter. Agent De Marco, it's all yours…"

"The cow blood is indicative that this could be the same person. You will want to specifically look to where they would obtain calf blood. One of the others was mixed with lamb blood and the other was goat. All are sacred animals to different religions. Future crimes may involve elephant, tiger, monkey, serpent, or dog blood. You may want to alert your zoo keepers to be on the lookout for suspicious activity involving said creatures."

"There also appears to be a pattern forming as far as a time frame. Each crime involves abduction and then three days later a blood bath. Except this time the bath happened there. About once a month, Sunday Sept 2, Sunday Sept 30th and Oct 28th people were abducted. Three days later the baths occur. This means this bath should be on the 31st. Why those specific days and why do it early this time?"

I spoke up, "Well, it may not really be early. We are only certain three peoples blood was in that tub. They could be saving the fourth, either the father or son, both had the same blood type."

"…and you are?" FBI Special Agent Aida Connor inquired.

"Dexter Morgan, forensics: Blood Splatter."

"Hmm…" she looked me up and down, pausing at my hand, specifically my left hand where I still wore my wedding ring."Special Agent Lundy spoke very highly of you, I was his partner for many years," 'yes but what kind of partner' I thought and Deb shifted her feet obviously having the same thought. "He said you are a very gifted profiler and crime scene analyst. You also thwarted the terror attack on this facility," it wasn't a question. "Your insight is always welcome, please continue…" she didn't bite her lip but it looked like she locked her jaw to prevent it, even I recognized these signals. She was looking at me as though I were prey. But, on the savannah the lion fears not the lioness.

I hadn't intended to offer more, but she had known that and also knew I was holding back. Everyone was staring at me, grinning, "Well, the abductions on Sundays and bathes on Wednesdays and the animals make it seem religious in origin," almost everyone in the room nodded except the two women, Deb and Agent Connor.

Connors eyes moved to the floor in disappointment and her eyes lost the sparkle that had been growing there. She reminded me of Yoda when Luke almost raised the X-Wing, only to fail.

Deb however knew me well enough to know there was a huge but there, Deb coughed, "but…"

"But… that is just happen stance, or planned as a red herring." Connors eyes were looking up again, and gave the slightest of nods, the twinkle was back. "There is a different pattern here that is concealed by the number of days in the months. Forget about the days of the week and the months…" he pointed to the calendar on the screen.

Everyone looked stupefied including the Agent De Marco. "Come on class…" Dexter prompted. Suddenly Deb laughed and was counting with her fingers even though she didn't need to.

"Fuck me, that's messed up," she said at last. She looked around. "Sept 2, Sept 30th and Oct 28th. Mind you there are 30 days in September…"

"So, Lundy was right about both of you…" Connors stated flatly, Dexter thought it sounded like bad things had been conveyed about Deb though, maybe her mouth.

"So, 28 days apart? Isn't that the lunar cycle?" Quinn asked.

"No, that's around 29.5 days," Mike Anderson offered before Dexter could.

I interjected before someone stole my thunder, "it's most likely a menstrual cycle. For normal women, it's 28 days. It just happens that the Sundays line up with the cycle, or these months were picked because they lined up."

"Full marks for the Morgan's. It's possible that it's some sort of other cycle, but I doubt it. The blood part of the ritual also points to menstruation. Do you have any other thoughts Mr. Morgan?" she asked testing my resolve for anonymity, were her eyes hazel or full on green? Green…

"It's easy to assume that our killer is a woman, but I think we should use caution there. I also think we should also not count out multiple assailants. I have a few ideas, but I need to hear more about the victims and the bath scenes before more blind speculation."

She nodded her approval, and motioned for Agent De Marco to continue, "I'm sorry for the interruption." He looked slightly peeved at her show boating, she could have briefed him on this before the meeting but had ambushed him instead. But, at the same time his case was making head way, so there was a hint of thankfulness in his eyes.

"Well the first victim is Marcus Taylor, 32 white male and he was, or is should he still be alive a highly decorated firefighter. He was permanently disabled two years ago due to burns he sustained when the floor under him collapsed and he fell into an inferno beneath him. He was on the second story of a chemical plant helping workers escape out a window. He was married, his wife and kids left him. He lived alone, no roommate. Not employed."

"The second victim is Dwayne Jackson, 27 black male, is or was a long haul truck driver. No wife, no kids. He was in Big Brothers / Big Sisters though. He was out in a large park in Chicago with his 'brother' and saw a group of kids playing hockey fall through the ice on a frozen lake. He was able to get some out with a tree branch, the others he went in for himself."

Mike spoke up, "Awe man. I know him; I met him a few times. I was in Big Brothers up there too; the force really pushes it up there. He wasn't the talkative type; I guess that was the long haul driver showing through. But a lot of those kids don't like to talk, so they always paired him up with the quiet ones. He was able to get all those kids out, but the kids couldn't get him out. He succumbed to the waters and was under for an hour before the EMS guys were able to get to him. They resuscitated him, but he had serious brain damage. I was working Chi-town then and it was a _huge_ story. It was the day after Christmas; there were like thirty kids were out with their new skates and sticks. Only a few of them fell in, but he screamed at them to all lie down and not to move. It could have been a massive tragedy."

"The guy was a real hero; he was a scout master too. The scouts gave him the Honor Medal with Crossed Palms; it is a very rare award. You have to put yourself at extreme risk saving multiple lives, usually its post humorously awarded. I think he got the Key to the City too. It was huge. God, why him, he had been through enough," Mike lowered his head and rubbed it. Dexter couldn't remember emotion ever getting to him before.

Quinn, his partner now, put his hand on his shoulder, "come on man let's get some air… The walls in here are closing in on me."

"Nah thanks though. I'm good. I might be able to contribute something not in the file."

Agent De Marco continued, "So, these men were both disabled and had saved lives. Both had received awards for their service. But, none of these new victims had saved lives, or been seriously injured. There is also the fact that there are in fact four of them. Nothing about it fits. So this is either a copy cat, a botched attempt, or we need to keep digging because we are missing something about the profile and MO here."

I inserted myself again, "This is good this means we have time. This bath isn't the real bath; it was like an appetizer since there were extra people. The real one is on Halloween, sometime tomorrow. So either the fourth victim is being saved for then..." Dexter heard the door behind him close; he turned to see Chief Matthews leaving and going to Debs office. How long had he been there, no wonder she was nervous.

Deb seemed to have a sudden need to cut the meeting short, "Very good job for now guys, we will continue tomorrow but there is a lot of progress here. Quinn, you and Anderson saddle up with Agent De Marco and rehash over everything. Dexter I need to talk to you in my office for a minute. Happy hunting people, get to work. Agent Connor, you can set up it that office. I'll send your team over in a minute." Everyone looked stunned for a moment and then filed out.

Deb took me by the elbow and led me to her office and on the way she was making a purring noise, "hair ball?" I quipped.

"Please tell me you didn't fail to notice all that cooing. That Female Body Inspector was scoping you out like an Ethiopian looking at an all you can eat Buffet."

"I'm dense Debra, not dead. There's something more there though, she knew who I was and was testing me."

"There's more there? What, like shared interests?" she laughed.

"I doubt that," I said sternly.

She got quiet at that, not having realized the implication.


	19. Chapter 19: we dont need no stinkin'

Chapter 19

Badges, we don't need no stinking badges

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Miami Metro PD

Chief of Police Thomas Matthews was sitting in her office on the sofa, she must have seen him go in. "Sorry, to keep you waiting sir. We were making headway on the Báthory case."

"So, I hear. Those were some interesting theories Dexter, good work. No reason to apologize to me Lieutenant, you're a busy woman and I understand that you're understaffed and overworked, truth is I enjoy a stolen moment of peace a quiet now and then."

"Good morning Dexter," he nodded in acknowledgment that I could stay. I returned his nod. "The press is killing us and the morale is in the shitter Deb. This department needs a phoenix or an albatross. So, which is it going to be Lieutenant?"

"A phoenix sir," Deb sounded hesitant for a millisecond, which only I could pick up on.

"I'm a glass half full person myself as well but pickings are slim. Maria would be burning someone on a pyre right now. It's not always the best course of action. Quinn is a cluster fuck, Batista is a normal fuck up, and Manzon is a rat who's doomed to the file room for all eternity. Anderson's a damn good cop, but he isn't ready for Sergeant yet and there aren't any openings for a Sergeant anyway. All the others are average at best."

"Yes, sir," Debra clearly didn't understand where this was going and I not only felt clueless but also felt as though I should leave.

Matthews was looking at his West Point ring, twisting it, clearly looking to it for courage, "Morgan I believe your talents would be best served as a Detective, you are hereby reassigned effective immediately."

"But Chief!" Deb quickly protested. "Sir," Dexter implored.

"Not you Debra."

"What?" we chorused looking at one another.

He stood up and handed me a large gift bag. "These all belong to you and I am sick of looking at them, I figured I could at least deliver them in person. The Mayor and the Governor have given up trying to get their photo ops with you, but we will be having one for this. Your shield is in there as well. As are the dates for your exams and you _will_ pass them."

"But Chief, I don't want this. I love what I do. I'm happy there." I implored in a panic.

"You can keep working with the lab if your Lieutenant thinks that's best. You're damn good at it, but your role should be expanded. You know within ten minutes on scene what the blood tells you, but instead of acting on it your sent back to fill out reports that aren't looked at for three days when you should be gunning for the bad guys. I hear Louis Greene is a good man, as gifted as you were at his age and I feel there will be no drop off in the quality of the forensic work, but efficiency of the department will improve radically."

"But you will accept this; I worked for a year on this. There is precedence for this; Batista for instance was once with forensics, it just isn't done anymore. The mountain of red tape was unbelievable. Your actions during the Dooms Day Killer case helped cut through a ton of it. Having the Governor and Mayor behind you opens a lot of doors."

"Besides, I'm tired of calling you Dexter like your twelve and Blood Pattern Analyst Morgan is too damn long Detective Morgan. You've turned down promotions within Metro Forensics four times and have had offers from eight other agencies over the years. That doesn't include dropping out of med school, you were the top of your class and you could have written your own ticket. You're a single father of three for God's sake, this isn't about you anymore."

"Sir REALLY, I'm not qualified."

"The hell you're not. You can do her job for Christ's sake," he nodded at Deb. "Okay, if either one of you can tell me one person in this building that thinks he isn't more than qualified tell me now and I'll let it lie."

We both looked at each other; both of us had nothing and for the first time I wished Doakes was still alive. Knowing him, he would approve of it and request me as his partner so he could be in my face twenty four seven.

"You've settled for scraps your whole life son. It makes us all look bad." He put on reading glasses, "To quote Special Agent Lundy's petition for your induction to the FBI, '…in short, one of the great forensic geniuses and physiological profilers of our time has been left languishing in obscurity in the '_cupboard under the stairs' _at Miami Metro Homicide. The Bureau would be foolish to not tap this valuable resource.' They think we are overlooking you for Gods sake."

"Wow, Lundy said that?" I asked, genuinely shocked.

"That and a whole lot more. I think that's why they sent _her_ here, to offer you a job. I'm kicking you out of the nest one way or the other. Here," he handed me a green folder, "fill those out and leave them with Deb before the end of the day. Your benefits package is included and I had your years bridged over for benefits and your pension."

"If you really don't want it," he hand me a red folder, "here… that's your golden parachute package that you'll receive when you turn in your resignation, you'll find it to be more than generous. It also includes glowing letters of recommendation from me, Maria, and the mayor as well as a five page breakdown of your abilities from Special Agent Lundy who saw your genius as well. You can catch on anywhere with your experience. You will pass the required exams within thirty days or tenure your resignation."

"I wish I could offer my congratulations son," he put his hand on the door knob to leave.

I stumbled forward a step, "sir, I'm not sure what I will decide, but you're right; about all of it. I know this was hard for you to do, and either way I do appreciate the work that you've put into this. I really want to hate you for doing this; but I am a father of three, so I do understand wanting the best for those you are responsible for. If Harry were in your shoes he would do the same thing, probably would've done it ten years ago. Thank you, sir." I extended my hand and he shook it tightly, "I promise to consider the two options very thoroughly and either way I promise that I will make you proud sir," I added.

"Watch out Debra, that is how politics is played," stated Matthews and he nodded and in a whirl the Chief was gone.

"Damn," we chorused.


	20. Chapter 20: Hot Pretzel

Chapter 20

Hot Pretzel

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Miami Metro PD

Lt. Debra Morgan quickly called a briefing of the homicide and forensic teams which was met with nothing but jubilation and camaraderie. I could see the shock ripple across their faces and everyone seemed actually genuinely happy for me. I was careful to watch for leering glances of anger or resentment, the only hint of it that he saw was through two glass walls from FBI agent Connor. She looked positively incensed, her arms crossed, glaring at me. She knew her sales pitch just got a lot more difficult.

I sat my bag next to the conference table and collected my badge and gun, which were being passed around the room. Louis seemed reluctant to release the gun and Masuka the badge, who loudly announced, "party tonight at the Blue Room!"

I cut the cheers short and announced, "Make that Friday night," there was a chorus of boos. "Come on guys, there is a family of four out there and something heinous is happening to them tomorrow. It can wait until Friday, the first two hundred dollars of the tab is on me," a chorus of cheers. "Come on, fall out. Let's bring them home." There was one more round of handshaking and clapping as they filed out.

"Thanks bro, I thought I was going to have to be the Wicked Witch. Sign all those forms really quick. They're for insurance, a new W2, the gun… you know the normal BS." I started quickly tearing through the forms as Deb read me what the next one was. There were ones for her to sign as well, for my equipment and car.

"Wow, I get a car and a submachine gun, rifle or shotgun. Which should I take?"

"You're a crack shot, so the shotgun is out. I would think the rifle, they are full auto too." Miami PD had been at the forefront of the drug war for decades and had learned the hard way to have their officers carry different types of heavy weaponry as many scenarios would arise where shotguns weren't the best weapon to have on hand. "At your level you're supposed to get night vision or binoculars, but I think we'll get them to let you keep your camera, since you may want to take your own shots."

My phone beeped, it was a text, _Dex I need you here- Lu._ I quickly answered back, _I miss you too, but I'm working. I promise to help you with that again tonight. Dex x. _I paused before putting the second x for a kiss. Rita was crazy about that stuff; Lumen seemed like the type that would think it foolish. The truth was that I hadn't really had time to think about her since I got to work and felt kind of guilty about it, so I left the x as recompense. I sat the phone on the table and continued to sign forms.

"I never really thought about all the _stuff_ you guys are issued. Nightsticks, taser, radios, stop sticks, handcuffs…"

Deb laughed after handcuffs, "All this stuff is for business purposes only of course," she gave me a playful glare that was a little creepy and it sounded more like an offer. She obviously was still hooked on the idea of something that was never going to happen. It made me glad we were almost finished with the forms. "Make sure you lock that stuff up when they issue it, in your office or trunk."

My phone beeped again as something popped up on the screen, my dear sister picked it up and my reflex was to snatch it from her, but I held out my hand politely, "Deb!"

"Holy crap, is that you?" she sounded amused but somehow hurt? She rotated the phone looking at the picture, "That is you!"

I snatched the phone from her; I remembered the last picture message from Lumen had been a picture of a body. I flipped the phone around and saw a picture of a hot sex scene, "Bro who is the Hot Pretzel, I had no idea Ringling Brothers was in town!" She was clearly trying to be playful to keep from sounding hurt.

I turned the picture as she had and couldn't believe it. It was Lumen and I, my back was to the camera and her head was turned and her ankle was in the way so you couldn't make out her face. It was from last night when she had her feet behind her head. I knew her bed and saw the huge scar on my side. My mind raced trying to find an explanation for how the picture was taken, not on what to tell my sister. I remembered Stan Liddy bugging my apartment. This video was taken from above, and from a distance but was high quality. The rent-a-cop next door; she said that he had a laptop. The pieces started falling together. She must have broken in and found the laptop.

I answered her, _Put everything back exactly like you found it and get out of there. I am guessing you already made plans on how to clean up, and I am also guessing you don't need to go shopping. Let me know when you're safe. _

Deb was still gaping at me but saw the serious look on my face, which was turning red in anger. "So, I get to keep the office?" I said shocking her as I got up to leave, completely shifting back to their prior conversation.

She looked worried now at my anger, "Sure, just make sure you do enough lab work to keep it legit," she sounded stunned as well.

"This stuff with the Chief explains why Agent Eyelashes is here from DC. I asked for a Fed, they always send local talent or from within the state. She's from Quantico; I think she is here to recruit you too. Report to her in a minute she requested you _on her_… team."

"Give these to the equipment room." She handed me the release forms. "I am going to partner you with Anderson; I think you'll be good for each other. Quinn can deal with Manzon. That was a huge hint that I have had her in the cupboard file room for long enough."

"Jesus, I didn't even know she still worked here," I sounded detached again, more like the normal Dexter.

"Yeah, well she shouldn't have gotten me banished to there, figured she earned it. I'll partner her with Quinn; a rat and a fuck up. She will get him fired or he will get her killed, but at least we won't lose a good cop." Wow, I thought. Maybe Deb was a monster after all, or maybe she had finally become a politician.

"By the way, nice ass bro…" she slapped me with the folders on the way out the door. Yes, definitely a monster.


	21. Chapter 21: The Dust Bunny

Chapter 21

The Dust Bunny

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Miami Metro PD: Basement

Officer Cira Manzon was living a life of living hell. The basement of the Miami Metro was down a flight of narrow stairs and contained a mountain of files which were added to everyday. Her job was very important; it entailed taking a stack of papers and sticking them in a scanner and watch as they were scanned one sheet at a time. A vital role in the cog of law enforcement she thought bitterly.

It took ten seconds per page and the machine could hold about thirty pages at once, which means that for three hundred seconds per stack she had nothing to do. Three hundred seconds to think about how far underground she was, about how narrow the isles are, and the stairs. Three hundred seconds to think about her being all alone where no one could hear her scream. Three hundred seconds to breathe the dust, to look at the shadows of the ineffective ceiling fan cast on everything making the room look smaller.

Every few minutes she would think she heard something move, or a footfall, or a whisper. It had been a year since she had called out 'who's there'. She had stopped for three reasons, first of all no one ever came down here; the files came down in an old dummy elevator. Second was that if someone was down here to kill her, or to scare her, they wouldn't answer her anyway. Last was the fear that she would get an answer, but not from a real person. You see, she had come to believe the noises were all in her head and that if she kept desperately calling out, her mind would sooner or later provide an answer.

The place was murder on her asthma and allergies, but that she could deal with. The oppressive heat she could deal with too. But, her claustrophobia had reached epic proportions. She was having multiple panic attacks a day now, usually early in the morning due to her trepidation of having to go down there.

She had learned to put her chair facing the most open part of the room and facing away from the fan and the isle and hence the stairs. She listened to nature sounds on her IPod and tried to remove herself from the moment.

An attack had started today and she was sitting in her chair as she had for almost two years. She was shaking like a leaf, but the room wasn't shrinking yet. She was sitting with one foot tucked under her leg and was swinging the other one, she was very short you see. She was listening to waves with her eyes closed imagining that she was sitting out on the pier as she did every day after work. She would run like crazy out of the building and down the dock, on bad days she would jump in the water. She tried to pretend that the hundred degree dusty air the fan was blowing around was a summer breeze coming off the bay.

This was a jump in the water day she thought, just as someone grabbed her shoulder, "_Fuck_!" she screamed as she drove out of the chair and onto the floor. She whipped around and saw Debra Morgan standing there with her mouth pursed. _"What the fuck is wrong with you! I almost pissed myself for Christ's sake!" _she screamed.

"You want to try that again Officer Manzon?"

"How can I help you _sir_?" she fumed.

Debra Morgan was more shocked by her appearance than her reaction. The Cira Manzon she had known was naturally beautiful, she was sure she was the type of woman that looked hot even when she first woke up in the morning. She could have phoned it in and gotten by on natural good looks, but she got up and worked on her hair and makeup every morning to make herself look even more stunning. She never had a hair out of place and her makeup was done properly and looked professionally done.

If Deb had passed her on the street today she wouldn't have recognized her, for lack of a better example, she looked like a junkie. She was sweating, shaking, and jittery. Her eyes were red, sunken and baggy. Her hair flat out looked not only uncombed but unwashed. She was dressed in short running shorts, a body glove athletic top, and she was barefoot.

"Jesus," Deb said with genuine concern. "What's wrong with you?" she pointed to her arm, which was shaking violently.

"Yeah, like you don't know," she said standing up, trying to take her ear buds out.

"What are you talking about? Are - you - okay?" she said the last part slowly.

"No - I - am - not - bitch. You know exactly what's wrong with me, which is why you sent me here, you whore," she shaking harder than ever and crossed her arms to try to control it, she merely looked like a child that was trying to keep from wetting themselves.

"Cira please calm down before you bust something. Please stop insulting me before I change my mind and leave you down here."

"WH-at?" she stuttered.

"I was coming down here to reassign you back to homicide," she said.

Cira dashed forward so fast Deb thought she was attacking her, she was hugging her tightly and clearly sobbing. "Thank you, _thank you_, thank you, thank you!"

"Cira please let me go. You're sweaty and you smell like a gym sock. You look like a section 8. I'm going to ask one more time, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, sorry sir," she let her go. "I'm extremely claustrophobic. I have tried to Section 8 myself but it was denied, I did it since you were blocking my transfer requests."

"Transfer requests, I haven't gotten any. Do you like it this hot in here; it's like a hundred degrees in here?"

"Ha-ha yeah, I love the thermostat being set at 'hell'. I have applied for transfers thirty-one times. Every job I could I applied for: crossing guard, meter maid, motor pool, midnight shift at the fucking impound, even IA… anything. La Guerta said you were declining them and she couldn't override you."

"That snake! No, I figured you liked it down here at first. Then I kind of forgot about you." Debra climbed on the chair and turned the fan off and stopped the blades, she looked around and flipped a switch on the base of the fan and turned it on again.

"What are you doing?"

"You have it spinning the wrong way. It was pushing hot air down and pulling cool air up."

"WH-at?" she stuttered.

"Fans spin both ways. One way heats, and one way cools. Some ass probably switched it to screw with you. The flue is open too," she moved the chair over to the wall and closed the vent. "Those old ducts are huge, sound carries through it. You can hear walking and a whole conversation if someone is talking right next to one. It's irritating as hell. "

When Debra got down Cira was biting her fist and weeping and laughing. But she wasn't shaking anymore. "…the voices," she pointed at the vent. "I thought I had completely lost my mind." It was already getting cooler in the room.

Deb looked at her watch, "Look Cira, I want you to go home for three hours. Take a long shower, take a nap, do your nails, whatever it takes to pull yourself together and then meet me at Marcos for lunch, my treat. You don't need to wear a uniform, but put on something that makes you feel good. We need you looking like Officer Cira Manzon again, okay? It might be a late night too…"

Cira went to hug her again and Deb threw her arms up and snapped, "...old gym socks! Meet me at Marcos at 2 o'clock."

She nodded vigorously, "thank you, LT."

Cira was twenty minutes late, but called to let Deb know and she went ahead and ordered for them both. The extra time was apparently well used, she looked very much like the Officer Cira Manzon of old, the bags were still under the eyes, but she did have time for a small nap. She looked presentable, but very tired.

"The twenty minutes were worth it, you no longer look like the Dust Bunny. You are looking more like your foxy self!" Deb said honestly but trying to help her confidence. "I figured a patio table would be preferred…"

"Yes, thank you," Cira said gratefully.

"I'm pairing you up with Det. Quinn for now, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, I know Joey. That's great," she said it in a grateful but worried tone.

"I think he might be claustrophobic too," Deb pondered.

"He is…" she trailed off, "… for the same reason. Joey was working in vice, he was way undercover. He had been for months. You know when someone is undercover that someone is always around to help in case something unexpected comes up, someone, usually two people will be there. Well I was just a beat cop, but I was filling in for a vice cop that was ill. They had me assigned as one of his uniformed guards to pull him out if things went south. Well it was me and Stan Liddy, his partner, watching him that night. Only Liddy told me had to check on a lead, which turns out was on the number 5 horse. So, I'm there alone, with no training, and his suppliers show up unannounced and snatch him to 'take him for a ride.'"

"So, I tried to hang back as far as I could. But, they snatched him as his final test to see if he was legit. I didn't know that, Liddy would've though. So, the whole point was to see if he would be followed, they see me following and play like they are going to shoot him to draw me in. So, I screech up and jump out with my gun and badge like I'm big shit until their ten friends with Uzis showed themselves. I'll never forget the look on Joey's face when I pulled up, before I even knew it was a trap. He had this 'you fucking idiot girl' look on his face.

"So, they put my own cuffs on me and toss us both in the trunk of my car and drove it into the bay."

"Fuck me," that's not your fault though.

"Yeah, I know that now. It was Liddy's. So, dispatch kind of knows where we are and that we are in trouble. But, it felt like we were in that trunk an hour. It was almost completely full of water when Joey got the duct tape off somehow. He was able to push the back seat out and swam around and unlocked the trunk, my hands were cuffed behind me, and so I couldn't go through the car like he did."

Deb's mouth was open, "Damn, he never told me that. It explains a lot though."

"Yeah, I'm sure. So, Liddy was blamed but nothing really happened to him. Joey wasted two months of his life under cover. He never once said that he blamed me, or that I was a fool, or that I should have done xyz… He would just give me this 'I'm very disappointed in you' look."

"Fuck, that's worse. My dad used to do that, it used to drive me nuts. I would rather him scream at me."

"Yeah… So, that's Joey and I in a nut shell. I know he is a burn out now and so no one wants to be his partner. I am part of the reason he is a burn out and he saved my life, so no I don't mind being his partner. I'll see if I can't straighten him out."

"Alright, well let's get you caught up to speed and find out where Quinn is…"


	22. Chapter 22: Worm Food

Chapter 22

Worm Food

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Lumen's Condo Miami, FL

Lumen and Tom arrived and the building she checked Tom through security, which was more difficult due to his thuggish appearance, and she was thankful that the present guard Roger looked up her safe word in the computer. She used the time to check the guard schedule; Carl was supposed to be on the late shift again, alone. She doubted that he would be able to come to work and check the laptop during the day while he was off, especially since it was upstairs. Nothing saying he couldn't check it from home though.

They slipped into the vacant condominium and showed him where the laptop was, he sat in the bathroom and she stood in the bathroom doorway. He flipped open the laptop and hit the space bar as he pulled out his thumb drive. His mouth fell open, but he closed it again.

The video she had left open had started playing again when he had hit the space bar. He saw her waking up in a large pool of her own vomit then collapse again. He backed up the video and watched as she took the pills and collapsing, passing out drunk, only then vomiting involuntarily. He saw it was dated two months ago.

He stared in anger at the screen; he turned his glare at her. She was looking away from him he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, wrap her in something soft, and protect her from ever being harmed again. But, he wouldn't allow himself to feel that anymore because she didn't want it. He couldn't give her what she needed.

Instead he felt all of the hatred, rage, and venom building up in him, fifty years of repressed wrath. She had tried to commit suicide before and he had talked her down, but that was a long time ago and she had assured him that she was beyond that now. He would need to do something drastic; she needed a dose of reality and he knew just the thing.

"This is going to take some time, hour's maybe days…I think I could do it in a few minutes, but if I rush I might screw it up. I want to thoroughly go through this thing."

She gave him a 'yeah right' look. He explained, "Look do want me to get it all or not? I want to hack his email, bank accounts, everything. I'm not going to watch the videos Dora, you know better… Well, honestly," he laughed, "I am interested in seeing ours, but not without you there. Can I work at your place?" he asked without honestly thinking, his sentences often shifted gears like that, and she had finally gotten used to it.

She hesitated, but for a different reason than he thought, "Hey, sorry I didn't think about that. Sorry, that was out of place."

"No," she waved dismissively, "it's not that. Dexter and I are trying to work things out…"

"Hey, that's terrific! It's about time, so you finally caved?" he was genuinely happy for her and it showed. She could tell he was really angry and worried a few minutes ago, but she saw all of that visibly drain from his face. She nodded smiling.

"Yeah, I went to see his daughter first and she helped me surprise him. We just haven't really _talked_ about '_things_' yet,"and she motioned in between them. "I have more baggage than Princess Vespa-daughter-of-Roland, and didn't want to dump it all on him at once."

"Ha-ha nice reference! You were saving that one for me weren't you?" she nodded. "Yeah, I always hated _that _talk. That's always a fun one. That and the exchange of STD results showing you're clean, so you can stop using condoms," she had been taking a sip of bottled water and almost choked. "Wow, I guess we skipped that step… I thought kids these days were more responsible," he laughed. "Maybe it would be better for me to meet him, might be easier once he sees how ugly I am…" he gave his ridiculous plastic grin.

"We'll see. Let's get you set up for now over there and I'll test the waters…"

"Cool, maybe I'll cook you dinner a second night in a row, I even promise I won't spit in it this time…"

"Yeah, screw it. Let's do dinner; I have bedrooms I didn't even know I had. Besides, what's he going to do kill us?" She laughed, he didn't…

She let him in the apartment so he could set up shop in what she hoped would become Astor's room someday; it had the bigger bed and a TV. He went to the kitchen to start assessing what all she had to work with, he fancied himself as a 'Naked Chef' which had nothing to do with having a garbage disposal installed in your shower as Kramer had, but being able to cook five star meals solely with what someone already had on hand. It is a lot more challenging than it sounds. She took the dog out for his usual run hoping it would settle him down; he wasn't used to visitors at all much less two at once.

Lummus Park, South Beach

Lumen's legs pumped and pumped, every muscle in her body cried out in mortal agony still being completely shredded from her prior evening's activities. Running always helped her to clear her mind though, to focus. She wanted to turn back, but her companion would have none of it. Zeus knew her route well and she tried to turn back, but he wouldn't have it.

Part of her duties with him had to be routine. He had to have a very strict and structured environment and she had to treat him as a work animal, he wasn't a pet and couldn't be allowed to act like one. The closest he would ever get to play time is looking for drugs or carrion that she had hidden for him to find, or tracking someone by scent. He couldn't sleep in her bed, or closet for that matter, even though she would find much comfort in it. He slowed his pace without needing to be told, knowing she was winded.

She had to debate about exactly how much and what she would share with Dexter about where Tom was concerned. She supposed that at some point the 'who have you screwed around with' conversation would rear its ugly head and she wasn't sure how she really wanted to address it. She didn't think he was the jealous type, but then again, he was a serial killer, could she afford to be wrong? Besides, she didn't want Tom to act all weird, there was nothing like that with Tom so he shouldn't be worried. There was no choice; she would have to tell him.

What about the rest of it? The letter that had caused so much grief, which she quickly pushed from her mind, what had happened with her parents, her addiction, the time she spent in Los Angeles, her kills and the way they made her feel. It would probably be best to tell him all of it at once, to get it all out of the way and out in the open.

It was a lot to dump on someone else though, even if it was Dexter. She knew that he thought of himself as emotionless, but she knew better. She was willing to bet that the emotions had always been there, they just expressed themselves in different ways or possibly they focused all inward. That would make sense, he was directing it all inward to protect others and his 'itch' was really just that he had absorbed as much as he could and had to unload, otherwise he risked exploding.

She reached the normal turn around point, a water spigot and turned it on for the dog but he was looking behind them. She looked up in time to see a man jogging, he was in mid-turn and she only saw a flash of his face as he spun on his heel. She quickly noted his features, clothing, and physical features. His watch was on his right hand, usually meaning he is a lefty. Something about his face, his roman like hawkish features rang a bell somewhere. She felt goose bumps as her hackles raised to match the dogs. He had turned too quickly and had been running quietly; she never wore her IPod while running outdoors as it removed one of your primary senses.

"Gut Zeus, here drink up…" the dog kept watching him run away."Come on Zeus, the faster you drink the faster we can follow him." The dog finally looked away three or four seconds after the man disappears from view, behind foliage. At last he drank greedily. As they started back she stopped him where the man had turned and gave Zeus the command to track, she didn't need to say who, because as soon as the words left her mouth he was off like a shot.

They followed the trail back the same way they had come, all the way out of the park. Zeus didn't need to stop to sniff the trail or any encouragement, he was all over it. All the way to her building, then past it, she saw a black SUV half a block ahead cut into traffic and speed off. It looked like a GMC and had dark tinted windows, she couldn't see the plate, there were cars parked in the way. She let Zeus continue on the trail even though she was certain that the man had been in that SUV, it was good practice for him. When he reached where the vehicle had been, he gave the signal that the trail ended and she praised him greatly for his efforts.

She knew enough about her inner being and Zeus for that matter, to know that the man was evil to the core and he hadn't been out there jogging. He had been casing her, hunting her. Had he been counting on the dog not hearing his approach? Or, had been testing the dog, or maybe trying to get a positive ID on her?


	23. Chapter 23: Mayo Clinic

Chapter 23

Mayo Clinic

Tuesday morning October 30th 2012

Crime scene Miami, FL

Slow days in Miami Metro Homicide were murder; I, Dexter the now Dashing Detective, would clean the lab equipment, restocked the supply shelf, and clean out my keyboard with compressed air and such menial tasks. This was not one of those days, nor did I think I would ever see one of them again.

I had my, err, debriefing with Agent Connor where we poured over more case files seeing if I could see any other patterns that stood out. It was slow going, but we plodded on. My lunch hour was squandered going to the supply officer and getting my mountain of gear, only then did I realize that I should have gone to the motor pool first. Now I had to lug all this _stuff_ down there and wait for a car. I was offered a new Charger; there were many of them in use by law enforcement in Florida. I declined this though; it broke a major rule of the code, never stand out. I selected a five year old maroon police POS. It reminded me of the car Doakes had stalked me in for a year, it might even be the same car. It looked like it had been through the ringer, but it didn't stand out and the windows were tinted and it had plenty of trunk space. No, not for that, I tried to tell his Dark Passenger, as I dumped a mountain of crap in there; I was sure I would never use half of it.

So, lunch was missed entirely. The machine that was Dexter required constant refueling and had to subsist on an old can of soup I stole from Masuka, it had been in their supply closet for two years, and a candy bar from the vending machine. I was not pleased by this, I was longing for a Medianoche sandwich and a batido de mamey of the quality of the one I had last night. I tried to imagine the taste and it was mixed with the taste of strawberry daiquiri and lipstick. I arrogantly wondered if anyone's life had ever changed so much, on so many levels, so quickly.

My phone kept going off all day with Louis and Masuka asking simple questions that they should have known the answers to. When I was called to a crime scene, I thought it was as blood spatter and started to hit ignore, then saw it was to Det. Morgan. I thought about the importance of the case files I was reviewing and then realized that normal murders would still be occurring and I was technically the new guy. I looked at the clock, 4:12. Couldn't this person have found the human decency to be murdered earlier in the day? Lucky for me it was close by; maybe there wouldn't be a lot of blood and I could feign ignorance as the new guy on the rest.

That hope died in the car on the way there, Deb sent me a text telling me to make sure I grabbed us both dinner and a snack for later and to get her something sans mayo. I sighed and grabbed some drive thru, large salads for both and a cheap hamburger for the way over. I wouldn't text Lumen until I saw the crime scene, just to make sure Deb wasn't over reacting.

I pulled up to one of the countless condos in Miami; it's always easy to find the scene by the time I am needed by the media, patrol cars, and tape already set up. I saw Deb and handed her the bag of food, "salad? What the fuck Dex, how am I supposed to eat this at a crime scene?"

"It's good for you Deb…"

"Thanks _Harry_. Enjoy your evening _Detective_," she snickered.

Anderson walked over to Batista, "Look at this, looks like a lead if I ever saw one."

"Nice, that was pawned today too. We'll check it tomorrow…" Batista said as he looked at the pawn slip in the evidence bag. I frowned, that was the kind of clue I always liked to pocket to collect my own client book…

I hadn't really seen anything quite like this, and after 2354 crime scenes that is saying something, not to mention my own personal work of course. The closest thing I could think of was an Aztec human sacrifice. A naked man was strapped face up on a chopping block in the middle of the room, pillows had been jammed under him making his back arch and his head hang over the side of the block and limbs tied to the legs. The block was small, about two feet by two feet. The pillows weren't for comfort, but to arch his body to prevent him from being able to see what was going on; ignorance adds to the victim's terror. Some of his digits and an ear had been removed and laid out orderly on the counter. Walking to the other side, his throat had been slit, spraying blood everywhere. How sad, they didn't cut his heart out while it was still beating. This killer could have been added to the Killer Hall of Fame if he had only taken the other step. I looked at the face, I knew him; he was the guy from the restaurant, the maitre d' Josef. Apparently someone felt that he fell short of providing 'the ultimate of fine dining experiences.'

I smiled looking at the blood sprayed everywhere and laughed, it was all over everything, everywhere. The ceiling, walls, floor, everything on the kitchen counter and the cupboard were all sprayed with blood. I walked outside with my field kit, "Goodnight LT, good luck with that…" I teased as I departed and threw a wave over my shoulder while walking away.

Deb broke off from speaking to Mike and Batista who also half stepped over to me as well. "That's a fuck ton of blood in there bro, what are you playing at?"

"I know that guy, so I can't work the case. His name is Josef, he is the maitre d' at 'Bistro Laurent Tourondel's Steak house'; you know the BLT Steak house on South Beach?"

"Yeah, I have brunch there every Sunday after church fucktard. The fuck you say," Deb's eyes narrowed, "when did you see him last November of '92?"

"Last night, I got there at about 7:40 went to the Piano bar to wait for my lady friend," I looked over and Mike was writing everything down. I had simply wanted to get the night off, not to actually become a suspect of a murder investigation. "We were there until about 10:30," she cut him off, "What lady friend and why does it take 3 hours to _eat_? How does a single father of three afford to eat there, isn't that place is like Posh Spice, not Ginger?"

"My date is none of your concern dear sister, and we ate very fast actually. We spent all night in the piano bar dancing; it's on the roof deck," I stated matter of factly. "As for my means of payment, I was a guest of the lady last evening," I saw Angel mouth 'nice' and nod. "After that we took our dancing to Club Jilèt, we arrived around eleven pm and proceeded to close it down."

"YOU were at Club Jilèt? Your white ass went to 'Club Razor', in the ghetto until 3am; with a girl?" Sometimes I forgot that she took French instead of Spanish in High school. "So, you were out dancing, what like six hours total?" Mike and Angel had slowly come closer. "You can't even dance…"

"She is a woman actually; Astor can't stay out that late on a school night. I can dance very well, it fills the ladies with pasión; Angel was at my wedding, he saw me cut a rug," he nodded to Angel who pursed his lips and nodded as though Deb wasn't at the wedding and Angel stated, "with much pasión…"

"Look, talk to Trey, the 6'9 Creole doorman at Club Jilèt can vouch for me; just ask him about the two white people there last night, I was wearing a bright blue suit and white rose. We may go again tonight seeing that I'm off tonight and all; we are on 'the list'."

"Get the hell out of here, and you two, check his alibi out later anyway… Hey, wait a minute; were you with Hot Pretzel girl!" Batista mouthed Hot Pretzel girl to Anderson who shrugged, but was impressed none the less.

I called over my shoulder, "he was tortured for something and they got whatever it was that they wanted…"

She called after him, "how do you know that."

"Why would you only cut off fingers and toes; you don't want him to die on you. Why didn't they cut them all off? They got what they wanted out of him. It wasn't about money; he's wearing a twenty thousand dollar Rolex… Later sis, partner, No-Relation, and tell Louis I said hi. I hope you enjoy the salad…"

I didn't see her flip me the bird, but I could almost hear it. I hopped in my maroon PoS before dialing Lumen. "Hello Dexter, its Lumen," I loved this about her; I had always hated Rita for always saying 'it's me' which explained absolutely nothing. I also loved that she always used my full name, very formal. Thinking back, I couldn't think of a time she had ever called me Dex.

"Hey, I got a messy crime scene at like fifteen minutes until the end of my shift, but I was able to get out of it. It was the guy from BLT, the maitre d' Josef? Since I saw him before his death, I can't work the case, so I am free to help you with our other issues."

"Great," she said in a less than enthused voice. "I don't think we should talk about this now, are you on your way now, or do you need to be there for feeding time at the Morgan's?"

I laughed, "No, my extra credit with Astor still seems to be in effect. She is watching the other two tonight, Angels kid sister is next door to me now so she is there if needed. I'll be over your way in a bit."

"Okay, I'd like you to finally meet Tom. He has agreed to put on a world class cooking display for us later. He is a chef… He is also going to help me with the problem with my website; he might have to take it down to fix it though."

She said it as though I was supposed to know who this guy was, then it clicked… "Yeah, that's wonderful. I would love to meet him and I am glad he can help with that." I loved being able to have innuendo with someone even though no one was listening…


	24. Chapter 24: Messer's is plural

Chapter 24

Messer's is plural

Tuesday afternoon October 30th 2012

Lumen's Condo, South Beach

Returning to her apartment Lumen took a long hot bath with vanilla bath salts and cinnamon body scrub and took more time picking out her clothing for a simple meeting than she had taken last night. Half a closet of clothes later, she settled on a black shirt with a two layer effect one sheer and one lace and dark jeans. Dexter called to tell her that the maitre d', Josef had been killed but he didn't have to work the scene since he knew him. Even with their hobby, she did find it macabre that they were both happier that he got the night off than sorry that someone they had just met had been murdered, she wasn't a believer in karma or she would be worried.

Security called to let her know Dexter was there and she told them to let him up. Before he could ring the bell Zeus heard him and pointed at the door. He rang the bell, she command the dog to stand down and opened the door.

"Oh," they both said in unison. He was dressed in his kill outfit and she was more or less dressed for a night out on the town. "I wasn't sure what the plan was, I can change in a second. I just wasn't sure if you wanted to eat first or not, I can change."

Dimwitted Daft Dexter had struck again, I quickly tried to explain, "I figured we could set up the room then eat? I think one of the spare bedrooms would work even if we don't do it tonight. I highly doubt he goes in the rooms on the far side. You look wonderful though," I added genuinely, her shirt was quite revealing and I knew it must have been difficult for her to wear out.

She looked at me in my kill suit and I swear I heard her hum almost like a purr, "you do to. I always liked that shirt on you, not sure if it's the shirt or what it means that I find alluring. It sounds like a solid plan. Give me a second to change." She started stripping her shirt off on the way and ducted into the bedroom. Being the human combustion engine that I am, I ducked into the kitchen for snack and grabbed a carrot and I snapped off a piece and tossed it towards the dog and marveled at my own jump shot until the ingrate charged at me full bore. I saw the murder in his eyes and the sheer joy at apparently being given a meal ticket to Café ala Dex. In a matter of seconds he was on me, and ducking into the kitchen saved my life as he had to break stride and make a ninety degree cut which slowed him, as I bellowed, "Call the dog! CALL THE DOG!"

"ZEUS, STILLSTEHEN! ZEUS KOMMEN!" Lumen ran into the living room where Zeus and I were near the door to the kitchen, circling one another, both looking for an opening. "ZEUS KOMMEN BITTER!" A testament to his trainer, the dog listened despite millions of years of evolution telling him a predator was in his cave, she instructed him to sit. "Tell me quickly, what happened?"

Usually the sight of a half naked woman wouldn't faze me but I found myself distracted, "I opened the refrigerator for a snack and tossed him a carrot; I didn't even go over there!"

"Gut Zeus," she rubbed his chin. "Wache," she pointed to the front door and he obediently went to his bed by the door. "I'm sorry about this," and before I could ask about what, she turned and slapped me lightly on the cheek, "bad Dexter! Bad!" I looked at her shocked, but she smiled warmly, glad to not see even a hint of violence in my eyes, just shock. "Sorry, I had to show him he did the right thing. I should have explained more, when I told you to ignore the dog, I meant _always_ ignore him Dexter. Don't look at him, talk to him, pet him, and never feed him. Different foods have different meanings to him and he is trained to attack anyone giving him food that shouldn't be, incase its poisoned or drugged. Please don't be upset."

"Umm, okay. Some people have to pay good money to be slapped by a beautiful topless woman."

She looked down and laughed and fought trying to cover herself, her arms stayed down but her shoulders rolled forward betraying her modesty. "Are you okay?" I nodded; she leaned and kissed me, though only briefly.

She went to get dressed, I think she really wanted me to follow her but she knew I wouldn't; I am not a normal male. Everything was always very cut and dry to me; if she wanted me, then she would have to ask. She put on her dark blue kill shirt and black cargo pants, her classic kill suit, the one that she had started with. She put on her non-slip shoes, the kind restaurants try to sell to their kitchen staff and she grabbed her web gear, a military weapon belt that contained: a pistol, a pouch with gloves, a small flashlight, zip ties, a knife, her lock picks, and a spare badge which was covered by a Velcro flap.

I asked from right outside her door, "so, where's your friend Tom?"

"He had to run get a computer cable and some other things. He'll be back soon," she walked out buckling the web gear and I tried to hide my amusement. "Yeah, I know, laugh it up. But, I didn't have years of training or your size or strength. So, I offset my disadvantages with planning, location, and equipment. Speaking of which, you want to come over here and put your hand down my pants?" she asked slyly.

"Umm, okay," I said it as though she had a mouse trap in there.

"Feel here," she motioned to the small of her back just inside her belt line, I felt something there, a pocket? "Inside some of my clothing I have two little pockets there, one with a little knife and the other with a handcuff key. Same in the front, in the little pocket of my pants, the one no one uses."

"That's brilliant, really. I never would have thought of it."

She smiled, "thanks that means a lot. I just wanted you to know in case something goes wrong and I… can't tell you," I found her pause deafening. I could imagine her not being with me, but about her not being anywhere? I couldn't fathom that, not again.

I still had my hand inside the back of her pants at her belt line, and pulled her to me and ran my other hand up her shirt, across her taunt stomach which elicited a sigh of contentment. She leaned her head back until it leaned against my neck and whispered in my ear, unnecessarily, "the kids will be home soon…" I knew these words well; it was the universal mating call of the previously procreated. It was the sexual equivalent of Black Friday shopping, get what you can as fast as you can and try not to get trampled on.

"Ms. Pierce, are you trying to seduce me?" I started to pull her to her bed, unintentionally slamming her bedroom door behind them with my heel. She knew that I wanted, to take her from behind. My primal nature was making that abundantly clear. I still had one hand on the small of her back and the other on her stomach. She spun to the right and led me into the master bath. She unclipped her web gear and let it fall to the side and undid her pants and slipped them down.

I knew exactly what she wanted as well, the mirror. She brought me here so she could see me… I bent her over the sink and found that she was more than ready, but decided to tease her as she fumbled with my pants while she was bent over from behind. I made her task of undoing my zipper decidedly more difficult, "Jesus, fuck, damn it, does that thing even work?" she implored as I teased her clit. I couldn't help but laugh, these huge metal zippers were impossible to undo with one hand.

I relented and stopped distracting her just long enough for her to undo the zipper on the camouflage cargo pants. It was difficult for me to control my inner beast which was filled with… lust? It was something completely unknown to me; usually it just sought blood, death, and suffering. Our eyes met and flashed in the mirror and we both understood; we were going to kill someone tonight, this was merely foreplay.

I resisted the urge to plow all the way into her, but entered her as quickly as I dared, watching her face in the mirror, which ran the entire length of the wall behind the sink. I still held one hand against her stomach, relishing in feeling the strength of her body as it arched to meet mine. With my other hand I reached up out of reflex and took her hair and pulled her head back forcefully but not enough to cause pain, her turned her head to make her look in the mirror with both eyes, which I saw were lit with pasión, "I… take… it… back…" she gasped between thrusts "…works …fine."

I pushed her shirt up and over her head and she clumsily pulled it off with one hand. I saw the scars on her back and was overcome with the need to own her, to possess her. I started to slam into her with reckless abandon; she fought desperately for something to hold on to and turned on the sink by accident before grabbing on the underside of the counter for leverage.

She saw my lustful fixation on her scars in the mirror; I shamefully forgot she could see me, "…you …like …them…" it wasn't a question.

"God …yes," I moaned between my pumping, I could feel her tighten around me and saw her hands struggling with where to ride out the next wave. "Lu…men," I almost called her Lu but knew how much she appreciated her full name being used, "…you're …so …strong," I remembered Matthew's words, "…you're like a… Phoenix…" I planted both of my hands over her back feeling her scars. She reached up just in time to wipe the steam from the mirror before she came; she had accidently turned the hot water on, she wanted to see my face as she came to orgasm. She shrieked in an almost avian way and her legs threatened to buckle so badly that I grabbed her by the waist to keep her up right as he continued to pound on her. She seemed to turn into Silly Putty in my hands, just as her phone rang. She pulled away from me and answered it, trying to control her breathing… "Yeah, no that's okay. Let him up, thanks Brian."

She hung up and spun around and flung me into the door. She pulled her pants up slightly, before kneeling and quickly started going down on me before I could protest. She did it a lot faster, rougher, and sloppier than anyone else ever had. I was shocked at how much I liked it; it was after all undignified, animalistic. I unconsciously tried to pull away from her and soon I was backed against the door. The door made hammering noises as I ass banged against it and I found myself pressed into the corner, then being pressed up onto the countertop. "Lumen, wait, stop, hey… Lumen, hey, wait… stop…" I was half sitting on the counter when I finally couldn't hold back anymore. My reflex was to grab her head, but she felt it coming and threw her hands up, holding me by the inside of my elbows. She didn't want to be interrupted; I grabbed the door knob with one hand and the cold faucet with the other. I hadn't wanted to surprise her, but with each warning and pleading word I issued she had responded to even more fervently. I arched my back towards her and left out a hiss as I inhaled as the only warning I could muster. She moaned reflexively with each throb, delighting in my release. She stopped only after she was sure that she had taken everything I could possible give and she pulled away with a slight 'pop' which was almost comedic, but we were both too twitterpated and breathless to manage to laugh.

She seemed to slide up my body as she stood, "Wow, Mr. Morgan…" She looked up at me as she wiped her mouth with her hand. I seized her around her waist and kissed her deeply and I could tell she was presently surprised by my lack of rejection. I swept her backward and laid her down, "Dexter, we… oh man…" she saw the look on my face and she knew I wanted to taste her."We are out of time…"

She playfully fought me off and she moved to the sink and rinsed her mouth quickly, something they never show you on TV, as I tried to collect my thoughts and my pants. She turned and pushed me against the door again with her hand to my neck she kissed me roughly, she pulled me slightly by the throat, to the side so she could go out the door. She eyed me lustfully, "please try to regain the ability to walk before leaving the bedroom Messer Morgan," she said proudly, wiping her mouth with her hand.

I laughed, "Messer's is plural, indicating multiple Misters."

"Well, the night is young…" she retorted lustfully as she shut the door as the doorbell rang.

I stared at the closed door and muttered, "Not funny." But I found that I was indeed having difficulty walking.

She let Tom in and when I came out she introduced us and ducked into the pantry for a moment, she had no desire to hear us slap each other on the back for saving her life. She came back with a bottle of Mouton Rothschild '45 and asked me to open it while Tom prepped his ingredients. She left the wine open to breathe and looked at me playfully, "Come on; let's go set it up…"

We retreated to the hall, consciously bumping into each other several times like teenagers. I started to get out my lock picks and she offered, "Not to be a Mary Sue, but I practice on these four locks almost every day. I know them by heart; I suck at every other lock on the planet though…" I motioned for her to go ahead with an amused smile.

"Mary Sue?" I quarried.

"It's a term for the all powerful, all knowing, alpha female." She started working the lock, nervous for the first time. I knelt behind her, whispering in her ear, obviously trying to rattle her…

"So, what does Mary Sue wear?" my breath hot on her neck.

"Only her bad attitude and leather corset, unless she is planning a homicide," she said as the lock turned and she opened the door. "Nice try Messer Morgan…"


	25. Chapter 25: Cocaine Blues

Chapter 25

Cocaine Blues

Tuesday evening October 30th 2012

The empty Condo Miami, FL

Lumen and I made an awesome team setting up the kill room in one of the back bedrooms. We did it in about half an hour; it's far easier in an empty room. Lumen was good enough to bring over a folding massage table for the kill, since there was no furniture in the apartment to use.

We lay on the floor, side by side, watching through a crack in the bedroom door awaiting our prey. We spoke in hushed tones, not expecting him to come in for another hour. For awhile we talked at length about silly things that people talk about on a first date. Favorite colors, music, movies, art, and hobbies that didn't include Saran Wrap. We had very different political views, except where the death penalty was involved.

Once more friendly topics were exhausted their conversations turned more serious. "I was really surprised that you suggested this route Dexter. He doesn't meet the code…"

I loved the way she used my name even when we are alone, it reminds me of the imaginary Harry. "Sure he does. He falls directly under the first rule, which has always been: don't get caught."

"So, you can kill whoever you want in order to not get caught?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes and no. It should be an absolute last resort. This guy has been listening to you for a year, who knows what he has seen or heard. Still I would prefer that you do this one. I should stay away from the grey areas as much as possible."

"Okay," she thought for a minute. "Why didn't you kill me at Boyd's?"

I stared at her for a moment too long and I knew I spoke too quickly when I answered, "I wanted to help you, and I figured I could risk waking you up and talking to you."

"But you seriously thought about it?"

"Yes. If it had been a few months before it wouldn't have been an issue at all, but I had to weigh things a lot."

"So, before Rita died you wouldn't have thought twice about killing me?" she blurted.

"No! The other way around, I could have gone to prison if Rita was alive. I had prepared myself for that, but I was a single father of three when we met. If you turned me in, my three kids would have gone into foster care."

"Oh," she said surprised.

"Can we please change the subject away from what Dark Dreary Dexter would've done under different scenarios? All that matters is that I made the right choice." I took her hand and kissed it.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Its sweet you would go to that length to protect those that you care about. Dexter there's some things we should talk about, things I should tell you that I would rather not say." I glared at her coldly, "oh, I'm not leaving or anything. I should tell you some things before it becomes too hard to talk about."

"First of all Dexter, you've been doing this a lot longer than I have, can I talk to you about how it makes me feel without you thinking that I am totally batty?"

I nodded and shrugged, "Well Lumen we are both batty, but I would never presume to judge you," and I moved my arms in a circle, "we are in the nest." We both laughed.

"When you… 'Do it,' does it make you…" she was struggling to say it.

"Orgasm…?" I probed, to which she nodded. "Yes, usually and if not it's kind of… annoying. Sometimes it's just an orgasm and in some cases actual ejaculation." I said it in a caring but very clinical tone, which I knew she appreciated.

"Thank God, I thought I was… twisted."

"No, that's very normal actually. I read a journal article once about a sniper talking about it, because they watch their targets a long time before taking the shot sometimes. I think people that can't experience that are the people that can't deal with having killed someone. I think it's the body's way of allowing the mind to cope with it, like giving Zeus a treat for doing something right; so that you feel okay with it."

"Wow, okay. That makes complete sense. Do you ever feel something else?" she tried to innocently probe, looking at her finger nail in an effort to seem nonchalant.

"You mean some _thing_ else?" she nodded. "Yes, that's also very normal as it turns out. Jordan's whole 'Primal Self' thing was about that. That's what he was trying to awaken in you, so it's not odd that you are aware of it now. I like to think of it as your basic animal programming, like DOS. Usually people think of it having animal attributes, always the same animal. That's where the Indian animal spirit guide thing comes from; I think that is where Rowling got the Patronus idea from as well. What's yours, if it's not rude to ask?"

"A big cat, a black panther I think, what's yours?"

"I've debated that for years. It's not an animal, for a long time I thought it might be a demon. Maybe that's where the idea of demonic possession comes from too. I think he is more like a stone gargoyle, you know the little stone guys that guard tombs in cemeteries?" she nodded. "He doesn't really move around and he never leaves but he'll turn to stone or something until he's board enough. He just sits up there, above my right shoulder and watches but he is constantly there. He'll just raise an eyebrow or stretch or laugh every once and awhile. Now days he sits up there bored a lot, with his hand on his chin like 'The Thinker'. Sometimes if there's danger he flaps his wings, or hisses a warning. Every once in awhile he'll sit upright, like 'holy crap, this is going to be interesting' only then it he totally awake. Like last night when my eyes were closed and you drew the sword, he was snapped awake and was very amused at the possible chaos to go down."

She laughed, "Well I hope I didn't disappoint."

I smiled, "No, he's totally down with you. Rita he despised though, there was an epic amount of eye rolling and scoffing going on."

She laughed at that, "Thank you Dexter for sharing that with me. I don't feel completely crazy now. Now on to more normal but serious topics, about what I did while I was away..."

He relaxed, "oh, that talk. I figured that was coming. I am sure that I have a few skeletons in my closest too…" they both laughed. I surged forward before I chickened out, "Maybe I should start with the fact that I have had partners before that I've had to kill."

"What? Like girlfriends?" she asked aghast.

"No!" I exclaimed.

She recoiled, "…boyfriends?"

"No," I said, completely horrified, "Partners in crime," I pointed to the plastic sheeting.

"Oh," she said not sounding anymore at ease than before.

"Well, except Lila. Technically she was a girlfriend, I guess. But, she tried to kill Astor and Cody, so that really wasn't one that took a whole lot of thinking."

"Okay, wow. That's huge. So, she was after me?" I shook my head, "so, she was after Rita passed?" she sounded confused by how little time would have elapsed, especially since I had met Lumen only 3 months after Rita's death.

I realized I had painted himself in a corner, I wouldn't have thought that she would have immediately jumped to creating a timeline... "Lila was my sponsor at Narcotics Anonymous. Deb described her as the 'hot British titty vampire' if that tells you anything… Rita thought we were sleeping together and broke up with me, she wouldn't believe me when I told her nothing was going on. So, then I did start sleeping with her and Rita decided she had changed her mind. Not my finest hour."

"Oh, well that's not your…" she cocked her head, "wait a minute," for a moment I thought I was going to escape persecution."Dexter, how long did you wait between the break up and Lila?"

I cringed, "That night," she looked horror-struck. "Yeah, I know that now. Silly me, I thought 'I never want to see you again' actually meant that. But I told Rita the truth and we worked it out."

"Okay, thank you for your honesty. We are enacting a three week breakup rule. If one of us throws the other one out, there needs to be a three week holding pattern, sound fair?" I nodded."Okay, about Narcotics Anonymous, we should talk about that too I guess."

"Well there's no need to, I didn't really have a drug issue. Rita thought I did, it explained the secrets and lies and late night disappearances so I just went with it. It was actually helping me with the thirst though; it seems that the need I feel is similar to a drug addiction."

"Oh, okay…" now she was the one that sounded trapped."It is the same. I know. When I said we had to talk about Narcotics Anonymous, I meant because of me… When I left you I traveled for three or four months and I was on top of the world. I had total and complete bliss. Then in Fiji, unfortunately during the rainy season, it sort of died off suddenly. I was depressed a lot and stayed there a month and rarely left the room, not that I really could in a monsoon. I finally left and went to LA and I kind of unraveled. I did a lot of destructive things, like I got a job dancing…"

"Well, that's not bad…"

"Not that type of dancing Dexter, the 'other' type."

"Oh. Oh, wow… okay. That's kind of out of left field."

"Yeah, I really can't explain why I did it; it just felt right at the time. I wasn't required to take my clothes off. I was more of a feature act at an S&M club. Mainly I whipped and beat people a lot; it seems my scars give me a lot of street cred in S&M circles. I just felt so hollow; I was desperate to fill it. With anything I could, it really doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does, I understand that deep yearning for something unknown…" I hadn't missed the 'wasn't _required_ to take my clothes off.' He had a teenage drama queen at home; he had a Doctorate in Semantics but he had also been married and knew when to keep his mouth shut… usually.

"I couldn't drink coffee anymore, it was destroying my stomach and one of the other dancers turned me onto Cocaine. I swear that stuff will keep you awake for weeks. Unfortunately it causes paranoia, which was the whole reason I don't want to sleep in the first place, so it just amplified everything. I am getting help for it though and Tom finally convinced me to see a therapist. I found a guy that deals with amputees and POWs. It seemed to be the closest match for my problems."

She had stopped looking at me at this point, her eyes were closed. "I had sex with a lot of people that month Dexter, a _lot_ of people. I was trying to feel alive, but nothing worked. I'm sorry, I feel horrible about it and I'm sure you're upset… I guess I felt like a whore because of what they did to me, so if I made myself one by choice I thought I would feel better? Stupid, I know."

I tried to look concerned but not angry, "How much did you spend decorating your apartment?"

Obviously she was completely taken aback and shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs, she opened her eyes, "that's kind of a personal question and _very_ rude and way off topic," she said waspishly. She waved her hands and was speaking loudly, "In the essence of full disclosure, _Dexter_, the first decorator charged fifty thousand but I didn't like it; I had expressly said no pastels. The second was sixty. That's just their fee. The materials are extra. The bed was ten thousand and I sleep in the closet. The artwork and other stuff were around two hundred and fifty, not including the Damien Hirst. Can I ask why you would ask that Dexter?" she said it all with a very stinging tone, which I didn't really understand. My name echoed in my ears again, but not in a good way. I had seen this type of anger from her before, also in a plastic lined room. Maybe I should be more polite given the environment and the fact that she was in fact a serial killer?

I plunged forward, ignoring her outburst, "Do you find yourself thinking really rapidly sometimes, almost like you can't keep up with yourself or have a really hard time concentrating on simple tasks, like writing a shopping list?" I asked very analytically.

"Yes to both, it was worse in LA, but I think it was the coke."

"You ever have it happen before, a state of heightened sexual activity or poor decision making?"

She knew I was going somewhere, but couldn't see where. "Yes, I guess. I've been in a state of heightened sexual desire for a few weeks now, but I've been taking care of it on my own," she blushed. She cocked her head and looked up, thinking, "In my junior year of High School I dated a guy with a motorcycle, totally not my type; we were like rabbits for a month until the new wore off. It just got old. I got into a lot of trouble with him too, minor stuff. One summer in college I got kind of unglued after finals and blew off a lot of steam, mostly drinking a lot."

I started counting off on my fingers, "So, you have little need for sleep, poor judgment, and temper control, reckless behavior and lack of self control, binge or lack of eating, drinking and/or drug use, overt promiscuity, lavish spending sprees, very elevated moods, excess activity or hyperactivity, increased energy, racing thoughts, talking a lot or quickly, jitters or the shakes; those are all symptoms of…" I stopped talking and nodded. The front door had just opened.


	26. Chapter 26: No Blithering Sense

Chapter 26

No Blithering Sense

Tuesday evening October 30th 2012

The empty Condo Miami, FL

Lumen and I had decided to use the same approach that we had used at Alex Tilden's on Carl the rent a cop. Lumen watched him set up the table as Dexter ducked through the Kitchen and to the hallway that led to the front door. Lumen waited for him to set up the table and luckily he set up the table at a slight angle that allowed her to approach from a blind side as he went down the hall to get the computer, I turned down the hall to follow and then ducked into a side room and would wait for Carl to pass me and then come up behind him as Lumen distracted him.

I heard him frantically searching for the computer, as if it had climbed down from its hiding place on top of the bathroom cabinet and hidden itself elsewhere. Lumen so wished that she could see him in there searching frantically. I heard him stumbling down the hallway and then beeping, he was doing something on his phone; he was dialing. Shit she thought as she debated letting him pass verses jumping out before he finished dialing.

The choice was made easier, he had stopped walking. "Yes sir. It's Prescott. We have a problem at the Pierce apartment. The computer receiving the signals has been discovered and stolen." A moment of silence, "yes, sir it was locked and password protected," he lied. "No, our risk of exposure should be minimal. I'll go check the security tapes to see who's been in here and get back to you. If it was her, we should be able to retrieve it fairly easily. If it wasn't her, once we replace the unit we should be able to tap right back into the cameras." More silence, "Yeah, usually. She's had two guys over this week, but usually she's alone for months at a time. You can do an insertion when she's walking her dog for an hour or more. Okay, yeah I will text you later and let you know."

She wished she knew what Dexter wanted her to do… but she didn't so she stuck with the plan. She heard a beep as he ended the call; she stepped out as he looked up. Her arms were crossed, "…let him know what Carl?" He was less easily shaken than she had imagined, he went for his gun with swiftness and a deftness unbefitting a rent-a-cop. It cleared the holster and rose quickly, but she didn't move an inch. She saw me behind him; I stabbed him in the neck and depressed the plunger on the M-99. She saw the gun level on her but still didn't move; she saw his eyes roll back and the Glock .40 fell to the floor a moment before he did. Neither she nor I made the slightest movement to arrest his fall; his face hit the ground with a satisfying thump. We stood across from each other as he fell, eyes locked as we both finally exhaled. We had downed our prey, now it was time for the kill.

"What was that about," I asked, while the look on my face showed that I could care less. I felt my shoulders rolled slightly forward, and I wiped the corners of my mouth, having a propensity to drool a little in anticipation.

"I have no idea, but I think we should find out. He used my old name too, how would he know that?"

"Yeah, about that, so it's Dora Jones? Should I call you that?" I asked.

"No, unless we around someone else. Tom's fine obviously. Hey!" she said suddenly. "How did you know it was Jones?" she eyed me suspiciously.

I thought frantically for a moment, I couldn't remember how I knew it. She recoiled slightly, and then I remembered, "Trey said it at the club."

She said quickly, sounding nervous and slightly betrayed, "No. No, he didn't Dexter."

"Yes, he did. You were already headed downstairs; he spoke into his throat mic. He said 'Ms. Jones has arrived she's with a man in a blue suit' he told them to watch out for us. He was talking to a guy named Rod."

She didn't relax until he said the name Rod. He had been manning the 'crow's nest' that night, watching the whole floor to direct the bouncers. It was a large club and having an eye in the sky made it easier to spot trouble early and pick of drug dealers so they could throw them out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to think…" she looked completely ashamed.

"No, I want you to be sharp as a razor. That was a good catch. I promise that I never looked you up on the system at work, hell I didn't even Google your name. Not even after that night Tom called. It was hard not to, I was worried about you."

"Yeah, I know you could never hurt me… Sorry about the paranoia" she sighed.

She smiled and looked down, "So, I have an idea, are you up to experimenting?" she grinned looking at the body sprawled on the floor.

"Sure," he picked up the phone and pulled up the most recently called number. He took out his phone and dialed dispatch, "yes, this is Detective Dexter Morgan badge 446180," she looked at me quizzically; I had forgotten to tell her about my big day, I pulled out my badge and handed it to her. "I need the 411 on phone number 305-555-1515." I took the information down on a note pad. "Also, what do you have on Carl Prescott? Can you email the rap sheets to me if they have priors? Thanks Brian, have a nice night."

I know I looked worried mainly because I was, "what?" she probed.

"Carl here called James Kline."

"…and that is?"

I squatted and started searching Carl, "So, I know him. I met him once; he is the head of corporate security for Raymond Kane."

"Raymond Kane, the real estate mogul? He's a great guy, I've done business with him… he's huge in the benefit circles. He's a huge playboy philanthropist. So, you think that this guard works for Kline? Maybe he works for a company that Kane owns, doesn't seem too nefarious."

"So… we should be talking about Kane in the past tense. He was supposed to be on my table last night; I had to cancel when Astor threatened to asphyxiate on her diaphragm if I didn't meet 'her' for dinner. I had actually decided to let him sit on hold for awhile; I started feeling like I was getting too close. Hey, wait a minute. Astor really doesn't have a diaphragm does she?"

She answered with her best 'are you a complete idiot' glare, and then said honestly, "He's really a killer? I never would have guessed. We go to lot of the same charity events."

"Well, he certainly took some sort of interest in you."

"So, he starts a porn site of me? Dexter that makes no blithering sense at all."

"Blithering?" I laughed.

"Yeah, I picked it up in my worldly travels, Dashing Detective Dexter," she handed the badge back. "It's a drastically under used would stateside, that and apoplectic."

"I think that the website was something extra? Kane pays these guys to spy on you, so they get the idea to double dip. Why let HD live streaming video go to waste?"

"Freaking cretin," she fumed as she ripped off a piece of duct tape, "is about to be able to use apoplectic in a sentence."


	27. Chapter 27: Strung Out

Chapter 27

Strung out

Tuesday evening October 30th 2012

The empty Condo Miami, FL

Carl Prescott was well aware his nose was broken even without the smelling salts under it, it had been broken more than once throughout his life. His eyes snapped open to see Dora Jones, or Lumen Pierce, or whoever she really was less than a foot from his face. He had been a Marine in the Eighties, so he never saw any real action and he had been a boxer in his youth as well as a pistol marksman and was feeling very emasculated at his somehow being bested by a hundred pound woman. "You fucking bitch…" he murmured.

She swore that he sounded exactly like Dan the Dentist when he said it, with half disbelief and half false bravado. Incensed, she rammed her gloved hands into his nostrils and pulled. He swung toward her? He looked down and saw a length of rope was around his chest, under his arms. He was being held aloft by it, she was standing on a chair in order to see him at eye level. "Now Carl, that's really no way to speak to a lady." She yanked hard until she heard a satisfying crunch.

She jumped down from the chair and grabbed his leg and spun him. His arms and legs were duct taped. "Now, I want you to think about the precariousness of your position." She grabbed a second rope and yanked him to a stop; it was a noose around his neck. He was hanging by a hook that they hung in one of the spare bedrooms; the ropes went through it and were tied to the clothing rod in the closet. The room was entirely covered in plastic for some reason.

"You should see him from far away; he looks like a demented wind chime." Carl saw me for the first time and was about to try to appeal to me, but I was presently sitting at the card table sharpening one of the very many knives laid out in a row.

"Can we hang him on the balcony?" she mused jokingly in a cold voice.

I seriously considered how amusing it would be, "No, that's probably not a good idea, Dora," I said in acknowledgement of her vocal change.

Carl interjected, "what do you people want?"

She hopped back on the chair and screamed, "I want my life back! I want the anonymity of my body back! But I can't have those things can I? It's not as if I can delete every picture and video of myself from the entire internet. So, I guess your soul will have to do," she angrily pressed her finger against his forehead.

I, now Dexter the Dark Defender replied in my own icy voice, "business before pleasure my dear…" I got up and walked over to him and held the knife under his chin, "Tell us the real reason you've been spying on her," I tapped the knife under his chin.

"Look, you know about the site, what else is there to know?"

She purred, "Oh, very clever name by the way, InTheCloset? That's an extremely creative way to further exploit my exploitation." She cocked her head, "Is that grammatically correct?

I shrugged at the rhetorical question and continued, "Who were you talking to earlier?"

"My mother, she's really sick. Maybe I ought to be running home," he jibbed.

"Yeah, the street lights are on…" she grinned in his face.

"Dora, why don't you wait in the other room for a few minutes and let us have some male bonding time…" I knew her monster was firmly in control, but we needed information.

"I think I have a better idea," she mused. "You see, we didn't get a lot of sleep last night as you well know Carl. So, let's quit dicking around and cut to the chase…" she unzipped Carl's pants and started fishing around with her gloved hand. Carl's eyes got wide…

I felt myself grin like the Chester Cat, "I think that he thought we were playing bad cop, bad cop. I think he realizes we aren't playing anymore… I wouldn't stand in front of him like that, in case he loses control of his bladder," I observed.

"Wow, here we go. Look how cute it is. I never knew they made them in this size!" she tittered. "Scalpel… God its fun saying that, I should have gone to Medical school."

I smiled and handed her a knife, "I never told you I got into medical school… more on that later. Well, you can always moonlight as a môhel, he is uncircumcised. One more time my friend who were you talking to?"

"My boss James Kline…"

"Good, honesty is a good base to start with. Why are you watching her?"

"Because he is the boss and he is paying me to keep a record of her activities."

"What kind of activities?" she asked.

"Everything… we log when you sleep, what you eat, when you leave, everything you say, how long you shower, your whole life. He has us notate everything in a log."

"Why?" she demanded.

"I really have no earthly idea, it's freaking bizarre. I thought it might be about your ex at first, but it's been going on over a year now."

She rested his penis on the blade of the knife and popped out her phone and speed dialed, surprising the two men, "Hey Servo, its Dora. Come next door with the laptop, and bring the wine and three glasses. This is a lot worse than we thought," there was talking on the other end and she laughed frostily and flashed an evil grin, "no, the clean up isn't what's worse, we haven't even started dismembering him yet." Carl's eyes got wide, "This is about more than a porn site…"

Tom joined them a few minutes later and there were a few minutes of awkwardness with everyone there together, exposed. Lumen felt completely naked and vulnerable and wondered if this is what someone's first time at an orgy felt like, she was sure it was a similar feeling.

Tom set up the computer and poured the wine, he looked at the bottle and his eyes got big, "Dora do you know," she interrupted him, "yes, Tom I do. Please just enjoy it; I can't think of two people I'd rather share it with." Dexter was certain it must be ridiculously expensive, and with just reason, it tasted simply spectacular.

Carl was much more accommodating with answering their questions since the subject of dismemberment was broached, to the point of their not needing to threaten him anymore. He directed Tom how to access the porn website and as to the passwords for all his various accounts and where he could find the logs of her daily activities, there were hundreds of them. "What in the mother of fuck?" Tom said, reminding Dexter of Deb.

Tom started reading from a random file; they were looking over his shoulder…

[Aug 8th, 2012 Wednesday]

5:17am: Subject can be heard screaming in closet.

5:22am: Subject exits closet in full bed clothing.

5:25am: Subject dons robe and slippers.

5:27am: Subject pets dog and checks locks on door.

5:30am: Subject cries in arm chair.

5:35am: Subject now composed and puts on coffee pot.

5:37am: Subject drinks coffee and eats cranberry and orange muffin.

5:40 am: Subject goes to bathroom and shuts door.

5:41 am: Subject brushes teeth for a long time slowly.

5:51 am: Subject urinates.

5:52 am: Subject showers for a long time, masturbates briefly.

6:11 am: Subject dries off and inserts tampon: begins menstrual cycle.

6:13 am: Exits bathroom and dresses in running outfit C and arms self, checks gun for bullets.

6:17 am: [sunrise]: Subject goes to middle child's room.

6:18 am: Subject moves telescope to position 1 for observation.

6:25 am: Subject moves telescope back to default position.

6:28 am: Subject leaves with dog for morning run.

I made a slight sucking sound as I often did at the conclusion of a train of thought. "I think even I am totally disturbed by this," I said honestly.

"I know. Jesus," Tom breathed, "I'm flabbergasted. You like cranberry orange muffins? I always thought you were a banana nut muffin type girl?"

"Too soon Servo," she mumbled distractedly. "So, you have been doing this for a year and have no idea why?" she asked Carl.

"No clue. I guessed Kane was your crazy ex-boyfriend. Shouldn't you have a better idea than I would? I'm a security guard. You are acting appalled; I had to write this crap. You don't live a very exciting life lady."

"So sorry to disappoint my viewing audience, I'll speak to my agent about getting me more dynamic roles in the future." I could hear the conflict in her voice, I was having serious doubts himself; this guy was a schmuck, not a killer. "So, they don't know about the porn website?"

"No, I did that to keep busy because I was bored to tears. Come on, cut me loose, I gave you everything you wanted," he said honestly.

"Servo is there anything else you need from him?" she asked; I heard the coldness in her voice and knew that the scales had just tipped.

"No, I got it all."

"Good. Save everything and leave the laptop," she looked at me, "Dinner in an hour and a half sound about right?"

"Yeah, two if you want to shower first," the other two men looked confused.

"Okay, Tom please go next door for a minute, I'll bring the computer over in a five minutes. Just don't let the dog out. We'll be back in two hours."

Tom nodded his understanding and quietly left. "Hey buddy, you want to cut me down?" he yelled after Tom.

She lustfully whispered in my ear, "I know this one is different. It's more… personal. If you want to leave, I understand…" I answered with an evil 'as if' smirk. "So, you won't… find me reprehensible for doing this?"

"No, never…"

She started removing her leather gloves and put on latex ones in their place. She wanted this to be special, intimate and the thick gloves were too heavy to be personal. She felt the need to not only impress Dexter, but to do something for him that was memorable. She felt like she was 'putting herself out there', almost like the first time she had worn lingerie, shy and awkward but desperate to please and be admired.

She handed me a pair of the latex gloves, I noticed that her hands shook slightly in nervous anticipation. She nodded at my leather gloves; I smiled as my inner beast stood at attention. I swapped gloves as she had done, allowing her to take the lead unquestioningly.

She watched as I looked her over from head to toe, I stopped at her eyes, lips, her neck were she could feel her jugular throbbing causing her to swallow hard, her chest but the middle to watch her breathing, her stomach where I imagined her abs flexing as she breathed, her hands which were clinched in front of her pelvis, her knees which were threatening to shake and her feet which were separated but in line with her hips feet straight forward, not turned out.

I was used to thinking about doing it for days, weeks, or months sometimes; with my anticipation building the whole time. I would imagine the death over and over, to try to make sure that it felt 'right'. I had never really not been involved in the decision making process before, it was exhilarating not knowing what was going to happen.

She placed duct tape over Carl's mouth, her eyes were cold."Let's put baby Jesus back in the manger, shall we?" she said as she put his penis back, making a face of revulsion, "I should have left the thick gloves on for that," she explained. She unfolded a second chair and motioned for me to step up; she moved the second chair behind me.

She handed me a scalpel and I delighted in slicing his cheek and Carl shrieked into the tape. She handed me a pipette and the slide, which I quickly filled. I held the slide up to the light examining my prize. Carl's eyes darted between us both, pleading in futility.

I hopped down as she was placing an oxygen tube over his nose, the kind that is inserted in the nostrils; she taped the mask into place with duct tape. She held up the other end which was inserted in a little purple bottle. She had developed her own ritual, something uniquely hers. She put the bottle in Carl's pocket, "would you be a dear and hold that for me Carl?" She saw me watching her every little movement, recording it with my mind. She knew I was watching her ritual and lustfully wanting to know what it meant, but knew better than to explain now, it would be like telling someone how a book ended before they even started reading it. She let her display build up in my mind and body.

Lumen was watching me too and could see that I had started sweating, my heart rate and breathing had greatly increased, and my mouth hung open slightly and was wet at the corners. My hands hung by my sides, the scalpel still clutched in my right hand. She could plainly see my erection.

Lumen wondered if he had become aroused when they had killed her tormentors, most assuredly with Cole, there had been a massive build up for him.

I shuffled my feet nervously; her eyes fixated on my erection and her mouth was hanging open in apparent horror. She realized that I had misunderstood her staring and mouth as shock, or disgust. Her eyes darted up from my crotch to my eyes which looked very nervous; it really was like wearing lingerie she thought… She breathed out slowly and whispered "…me too, you just can't see…" her voice was heavy with lust which served to deepen my own yearning. She nodded slightly and smiled which I returned awkwardly, but I felt relieved.

She went to the computer and queued up the video of us from last night. She left the screen turned away, but turned the volume up, the sound of our love making filled the plastic lined room.

She climbed on the chair behind Carl and motioned for me to stand on the one in front of him and then she started sawing at the rope tied around his arms, as Carl started a fresh round of pleading mewing noises through the tape. "This was one of the two most intimate moments of my life Carl, and you invaded it and exploited it for money," the rope snapped and Carl fell a few inches until the noose went taut and Carl started making strangling noises as he hung there. "Put your hands on his neck Dexter, gently… as though it were mine." I did so and felt Carl's jugular pounding, _Ththump_ trying to force blood past the noose. _Ththump_ It was glorious. _Ththump_ She placed her hands on top of mine _Ththump_ until I moved one hand and placed in on top of hers, I put my thumb behind hers to feel her pulse and she did the same with the other hand, _Ththump_ so we could share in our twisted moment of intimacy. _Ththump_

_ Ththump_ As we stared into each other's eyes, _Ththump_ and listened to us making love, _Ththump_ she whispered very softly, "According to Dr. Duncan MacDougall, _Ththump_ the human soul weighs 21 grams. _Ththump_ The body weighs less just after the heart stops, after the last breath is expelled and with it the soul." _Ththump_

"Pandora of Greek Myth was created as punishment against another god, _Ththump_ and given as a bride. _Ththump_ The dowry she was given was a box, _Ththump_ that when opened released all the evil souls upon mankind. _thump_ I am here to recollect them, _ump_ and put them back where they belong… his soul will be mine," she said shyly. _ump_

"That's beautiful," I said in awe. After a long pause I added, "He's finished…" I still hadn't taken my eyes off of hers, nor had either of us moved our hands. We stood in silent bliss, in a moment of total intimacy. It felt like a sacred moment, more like two people giving wedding vows, and less like two people that just murdered a man and were now holding a corpse and standing on folding chairs. When we finally got down we hugged and kissed briefly, both of us feeling nervous and exposed.

I was weary from lack of sleep and convinced her to take Servo down to the security room to disable the cameras and pack up as much of the security discs as they could, while I dismembered and packed up the body. I was finished before they were and was tearing the room down when she came back. She was really surprised at how fast I had done it and I explained that I had always taken my time when she had been there, not wanting her to see how mechanical and apt I was at dismembering someone.

We were going to pitch the discs but then decided to move them to another location and review them to see it they could see who all was surveying her.

Her condo was bayside and had its own docks. We took a smaller boat she owned, the_ Piercing Light_, as the exterior cameras were disabled as well. The trip out to dump the body was very short, as she lived closer to the ocean and I lived on the far side of the bay and usually had to cross the bay, circle the shore then go out to sea.

She wanted me to 'drive'; I politely allowed her ignorance of nautical terms to pass uncorrected. I was happy to pilot the craft. She was very clingy the whole trip, hugging me from behind as I steered. I actually didn't mind, nor did my inner monster for that matter, which had been pleasantly surprised by her idea of an intimate evening.

After dumping the body, she hugged me sleepily, her head on my shoulder. "Dexter, what were you going to say?" she asked very softly.

I didn't have to ask what she was talking about; I had been secretly hoping she would forget somehow. I wished I wasn't so analytical sometimes; I should have kept silent about my suspicions. I rubbed her hair to acknowledge her question as I tried to muster the courage, not the words to tell her. Even though I was confident of my diagnosis, I was careful to not phrase it with any sort of certainty. "I'm not positive, I'm not a professional psychologist, but I have studied the human mind pretty thoroughly. I think you're manic depressive; they call it Bi-Polar disorder now," I heard the extreme sadness in my own voice and it intrigued me. "It explains all of it. It all fits. The overt sexuality, ditching the wedding, not being able to sleep, the paranoia, the anorexia, your three month high then the crash in Fiji, the guy in high school that 'got old', and the jitters you used to get weren't from coffee, the dancing and the shopping you told me about were the last two pieces that made me realize it."

"Oh," she said very faintly.

"I think you were always stage 1 or 2, but severe emotional trauma can cause it to develop or escalate. I think you are probably level 3 now, still able to function but not in a typical fashion," my mind was elsewhere and it even sounded to myself like I was holding back.

"There is a massive 'but' coming Dexter. It is treatable though, right? I have seen the ads on TV?"

"Yeah, it's completely treatable. The 'but' is that I think I know the manic Lumen and the depressed Lumen. The normal Lumen, I think is the one that left me…" I found the last sentence absurdly difficult to say, she must have found it just as difficult to answer because she just held me tighter.


	28. Chapter 28: The Last Supper

Chapter 28

The Last Supper

Tuesday evening October 30th 2012

Lumen's condo Miami, FL

Lumen and I arrived back at the condo faster than I had anticipated. Our evening had started early and it was just after 8 PM when we arrived back at the condo. We both took quick showers; she took the dog out as an excuse as to not join me. I was fine with that, I enjoyed private showers. I made full use of both showerheads though and she had tremendous shower pressure. I was guiltily still in there when she slipped in to brush her teeth, I thought as a nice way to get me to hurry up. She was still around the corner at the sink, taking her makeup off, when I left to get dressed.

I thought the time alone with Tom was going to weird and awkward, but shockingly it wasn't. He was funny, but in a natural sense and had a ton of actually entertaining stories. He vaguely reminded me of my natural brother Brian, in the way he was loose and easily likable despite his appearance. He was defiantly skilled with a blade; he cut and prepped things in a blur of fluid but precise motion that I couldn't help but envy. I didn't fail to notice that he was using a set of knives similar to the ones Lumen gave me, same maker, but a different style.

I saw one of his tattoos while he was chopping, it was newer whereas most of his other ones were very faded; he had a 13 tattooed at the base of his right thumb. I didn't notice him looking up in time; I hadn't intended to glare at it. "It's not like that, I think of her like a daughter now. There's nothing like that there. We messed around one time, but we both thought it felt creepy, like incest or something. I mean it was like I was kissing my sister, can you imagine?" I really did laugh at that. "I've been trying to get her to call you for a year…"

"Thanks, really. I appreciate someone watching out for her. Thanks for being up front about it, I'm not the jealous type; I never understood that line of thought. Someone either wants to be with you, or they don't."

A soothing voice startled them both and I knew she was either practicing walking silently or testing me, probably both. "True, very true… so are you boys playing nice? Tom, Dexter thinks I might be Bi-polar," she said all of this together, something I had already noticed about Tom. He spoke without punctuation or paragraph breaks, unlike sentences often flowed together as one thought.

Tom stopped cutting and tilted his head, he turned around to his on laptop which he had in the kitchen playing music and looked it up online. She looked over his shoulder, "This does fit, almost all of it, except for binge eating…"

"Yeah, I've never told anyone about that… Dexter can you grab me a beer?" she asked as she hopped up on the other counter. "Thank you Mr. Morgan. So, each one of them was very different…" she began…

"Dora, you don't need to…" Tom began.

"No, I want to. It's good for me to talk about it. So, Boyd was nasty; the nicest thing he would do was urinate on me when he was done. That meant I would at least be hosed down either then by the next one or later when someone else came," she was very even toned and nonchalant, almost like she was talking about her friends on Facebook.

"Chase liked mental mind games and scare tactics, he rarely ever touched me. I think that he was the first one on the first night they had me, then never again after that, I guess I was tainted then."

"Dan and Cole were friends and sadists, they often came together. I think it was so they could completely unbind me and let me try to run around, they liked it when I fought back. They were the two biggest and strongest and even healthy I wouldn't have stood a chance against them."

"Alex Tilden was different," she said it almost longingly. "I loved Alex Tilden." Tom turned completely around and I looked up at her, we both thought she was kidding. "I really did, I always will. Dexter, do you remember what I told him?"

"That your number was 13."

"No, what I screamed at him?"

"That he forced you to do things you never would've done…"

"No, I said he _made me _do things. He never forced me to do anything; well he did the first night I think, because everyone was there. I think he had been doing it his whole life because of peer pressure. I don't think he had friends, no family, wife, or kids… He got sick of it and so he would always come alone at dinnertime, earlier than any of the others so they wouldn't be there. For the first week he would come every day and just chat with me. The first two days I didn't say anything, I thought he was mental. I didn't realize that he had been doing this for years, talking to Barrel Girls after work. So, on the third day I started talking to him. I wouldn't talk about me at first, but he would tell me about his day at work and about his hopes and dreams and all that husband and wife dinner table talk."

"After like half an hour, he had eaten a burger while he talked and I had watched the food the whole time, he told me that we were stuck in this 'unfortunate situation' and that if I did what he asked, he would do as I asked. I didn't say anything and he held up another bag of fast food and said that he was going to give it to me as a show of good faith and it I ever broke this first agreement that he would stop coming," she smiled happily at the memory. "He said what I want for this, is for you to always fight the two big guys when they come, he wanted me to kick, scream, bite, spit, cuss, claw and anything else I could to resist them and then he gave me the bag that had a Big Mac, Fries, apple pie, and coke. He said if I ever stopped fighting them that they would hurt me so bad that I would wish I was dead… and he couldn't bear to see that," Tom looked as appalled as I felt.

"Alex saved my life. Every weekday he would come after work and ask me to do things for food. Sometimes it was stupid stuff, like stand on one foot or sing 'I'm a little tea pot' and then he would leave, like if he was in a hurry that day. Fridays were 'date nights' because I had to do extra stuff if I wanted extra food for the weekend. He never came on Saturdays or Sundays because someone else was almost always there, 24/7 sometimes."

"They had grabbed me on a Friday and by the next Friday we were having our first date night. I had asked for a book and he said he would bring it if I hid it well and I agreed to read to him. I asked for Shakespeare and he brought Hamlet and I read to him for a long time after we ate. He brought a blanket and he lay down on it with his head in my lap, he even fell asleep. I thought he was testing me then, now I don't think so."

"Anyway he stayed too long and Boyd showed up drunk as hell and I think that is why Alex stayed, he was afraid that Boyd would get carried away. So, Boyd took his turn and then Alex did, quietly apologizing for it the whole time, I told him it was okay. I thought he was going to cry at one point and I wasn't sure who was raping who. I acted like Boyd had beaten the fight out of me and I kind of let Alex do what he wanted, Boyd finally got bored decided to move on, Alex stopped as soon as he left. Alex kept apologizing, but I was glad he stayed."

"So, he asked me what I wanted, and I asked him for a peach," Tom and I gave a shocked snort, Lumen motioned for another beer, "that's what he did too, gave this unbelievable snort." She took a sip of the new beer. Tom offered us little quiches that he made from scratch as appetizers. "So, Monday comes and he brings a padlock with him, there were some old lockers down there. He told me the combination and let me keep a small blanket, the books -he brought more that day, and some food there. I was to tell the others it was his if they asked about the lock. He handed me a single peach, it still had a leaf on the stem even. It was picture perfect. He said that he went to like 20 fruit stands in the city tasting peaches trying to find the perfect one since that's all I asked for. He had to have been telling the truth, because that was the best damn peach I have ever tasted."

"So, for the rest of the week he brought me minimal food for the small things he wanted me to do and by Thursday I was starving, literally. I asked what he wanted to do for date night as sincerely as I could and we both knew what I meant, it meant that I was willing to do whatever he wanted. He said he only wanted what I was willing to give; he didn't want me to ever do anything that I didn't want to do. So, he asked what I wanted to eat or to do and I told him whatever would make him happy and that I was sure I would love it. He was always pleasantly surprised by that," she smiled at the memory as she ate another of the little quiches and drained another beer.

"He came over at lunch time, it scared me to death when I heard someone coming; they never came that early on a weekday. He brought down this big black rubber thing; I thought it was a body bag. He saw the horror on my face and figured out what I thought it was and laughed, he told me it was a shower," I nodded in understanding, "it was a portable camping shower with this big hanging bladder thing. There were showers in the same room, but they had no water pressure, so he hung it under the shower head to collect water so I had a proper shower. He brought me a bag of toiletries and asked that I shave first so he could take the razor away and he would leave me, so I did. He left to go back to work and I had a shower for four glorious hours. It was cold water, but it was summer in Miami so it was hot as hell in there."

"So, I was obviously very clean but I was wrapped up in my blanket when he got there, I had no clothes and apparently modesty comes with cleanliness. He apparently knew this because he brought me an outfit, including the blouse you found me in. He brought a picnic basket with rotisserie chicken and wine and sides and peach pie for dessert. We couldn't think of anything to do after dinner to break the ice, so I asked him if he could dance and he didn't know how so I gave him lessons and one thing led to another and we slept together. He was very polite and gentle even asked if I wanted him to use a condom, it was all _exceedingly_ bizarre considering I was chained to a pole. It was defiantly one of the more memorable evenings in my life…" she said nostalgically.

"Lumen, I think that you were just developing Stock…" I started before she blurted out, "I swear to God in heaven Dexter, that if you say I had Stockholm syndrome I'll..." she broke off her threat unfinished, we both looked at each other and both knew she was fighting saying something that she would regret. I could see the flash of murder in her eyes and I found it as alluring as I did disturbing, both of which I found arousing. I had almost walked across a huge line in the sand though and as sexy as I found the killer in her, I found that I had no desire to see our relationship suffer.

Tom broke the silence, "Wow…it looks like we are ready to move up to wine, the beer isn't cutting it anymore." He got a normal bottle of chardonnay out of the refrigerator and started opening it.

Lumen and I were still staring at one another and I knew from long experience she wouldn't speak again until after I did. "Lumen, I apologize for thinking that and even more for saying it. Your situation was very complex and can't be easy to quantify. You told me about all the others, but not this and I should have identified the reason for that, you were afraid of how it would be taken. Besides the fact that it's obliviously not true considering that you took care of him yourself which is the opposite of what I was suggesting… I truly am sorry."

She looked at me the same way for five or six seconds, which worried me, I wasn't very good at apologizing and didn't have any other ideas. Her eyes finally softened and she motioned for me to come over to her, she hugged me while still sitting on the counter, "thank you, I'm sorry too." She motioned for me to sit next to her, which I did.

"I was about to say that is was one of the most memorable nights of my life, because that was the last night I was Lumen Pierce. If I would have been freed then, I think I could have recovered and had a normal life and put it all behind me. But he fell asleep there, when I woke up it was light outside and he was scrambling around throwing stuff in the locker. Then I heard the voices he looked really nervous, and he said that he was sorry and blindfolded and gagged me tightly. He whispered that it was all of them and they were staying the holiday weekend."

"I heard them teasing him upstairs about pulling an all-nighter. They asked him to stay, but I knew he wouldn't. He said he had a deep sea fishing trip chartered and if he caught something big that he'd be back for dinner. The worst three days followed that. He did come back for dinner; I think he might have bought the fish though. While they were all eating he snuck down stairs to check on me, I was hanging from the ceiling and was in really bad shape already. He gave me some fish and water and one of those little bottled energy drinks and offered me some GHB to numb me a little and so I wouldn't remember what they did. He said the two big guys were coming and that it was going to be bad. I took it and so I had a few hours of a blank spot, but they hurt me enough so that I could fill in the blanks later."

"So, to cut this short, I had to do things to eat which became more grotesque and degrading as time went on, so now I can't bring myself to eat without figuring out what I'm going to have to do to earn it. If it wasn't for Alex though, I would be totally batty now. His visits kept me grounded and gave me something to look forward to."

I had been baffled for awhile and had been waiting for a chance to speak, "So, why were you surprised that he recognized you? You obviously spent a lot of time together without being blindfolded?"

"Because he didn't see me as a real person Dexter, I was this imaginary thing; I don't even think it was one of the other girls he was thinking of, but a concept. He called me Rachel and I'm sure he called us all that. That's why he stopped coming when I got hurt too badly; I no longer fit the illusion so I was worthless… I knew I had to be the one to take care of him and I half hoped we wouldn't find out who he was. He was a prisoner and a victim of Chase every bit as much as Emily."

"Well Ms Jones, no need to worry about earning your meal tonight, you've earned it by sharing that with us," Tom said as he cut the veal.

We switched to friendlier topics after that, I gave silent thanks to Tom for being able to have us both laughing by the time dinner was on the table. Everyone had seconds, even Lumen who had never had veal before. We all retreated to the bar and she made us all a night cap; we were all tired even though it was still early. Tom confirmed her earlier suspicion that he had gotten off work last night and went straight to the bail bonds office to work on tracking down Phillip Jackson. She figured the real reason was that he had no place to go, the same reason he asked to stay here… The boys had been able to nab Jackson earlier so Tom was due a 5 figure payday; Jackson had skipped out on a million dollar bond. She made them their drinks of choice, "Long Island for the Junkie from Jersey, Mojito for the Man from Miami Metro, and a dirty Martini for the Deadly Dirty Dame…" she announced.

Tom laughed and raised his glass, "to happier times…"

We said it together, "to happier times…" and tapped our glasses.

As soon as the words finished coming out of her mouth, she was gone with a jerking flash. She was at a different bar now; "to happier times…" she said and tapped glasses with the man next to her. She pushed her long hair behind her ear with her other hand, she was nervous. She was glad she was wearing her blue pleated skirt, the one with the little daises; it was so cute on her especially when she danced. God she hoped he could dance, he had an accent and usually foreign men were fair dancers. He was so cute, but in a very different way. His face was very angular, the opposite of hers. Her face was sort of flat, his was sharp, almost bird like…

"Dora! Hey!" someone was shaking her.

"I'm not sure if we should snap her out of it…" I warned.

"What the…" she jerked away from Tom, spilling some of her drink.

"You had us worried; you were gone for like 30 seconds…" Tom did look concerned.

"What did you see, quickly, it will fade like a dream…" I probed.

"I was in a bar and did the same toast; I was wearing my blue skirt, I was talking to this foreign guy. He had a very… oh fuck me!" she raised her hand to her mouth. "It was the guy from the park…"

"What guy and which park, when was it?" I asked.

"Today, I saw him today! In Lummus Park when I was running, he spooked the dog. We thought he had been trying to sneak up on us. I followed him all the way back to the building to a black GMC with tinted windows… Oh, man. He knows where I live!"

"When was the vision and where?"

"I don't know. My hair was really long… and I was wearing that skirt. That's all I remember," she said in a ghost like voice.

Lumen couldn't remember anything else and wanted to excavate her extensive wardrobe in an archeological manner to determine how long it had been since she worn that skirt, I convinced her to wait until morning. We turned in and Lumen softly asked if we could just go to sleep, which I was overjoyed by. I felt like we were both on emotional overload. She changed into something soft and fluffy instead of scant and slinky. I usually slept naked, but always wore boxers at least if I was with her. She snored loud enough that it would have bothered me if it was anyone else. I wondered how long it had been since she had really slept.

This felt so right. If only the kids were in the next room. I felt guilty at the thought of them not seeing me for so long, but I had been around them more of late. Trick or treating was tonight, I hoped I would be able to be there, it was my favorite holiday. I wondered if Lumen had a costume as I drifted off to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29: Wake Up Call

Chapter 29

Wake Up Call

Tuesday evening October 30th 2012

Lumen's condo Miami, FL

Sometime later, I the Dimwitted and Daft Dexter's phone rang waking me from a glorious dream; Lumen didn't even stir however she was no longer snoring. It was 12 am and I felt remarkably well for only being asleep for 3 hours. I flipped my phone open and gave my customary nocturnal greeting, "Morgan, someone had better be dead or someone's going to be…"

I had expected it to be Deb, or maybe Batista. It was Special Agent Aida Connor syrupy voice on the other line, "I apologize for waking you Detective Morgan, its Agent Connor. I think I might know where the Báthory Killer may be hiding… where would you like to get together to touch bases with me?" she oozing with sexual innuendo with the last sentence.

I rolled out of bed and went to the far closet to dress and whispered, "I'm at Miami Beach at 900 West Avenue, the South Gate Towers, where are you?"

"Nice place, I'm at the Ritz Carlton on the Beach."

"The Ritz Carlton, that's close by. I'll come get you. I'll be there in five minutes."

I didn't have the heart to wake Lumen; I was afraid to even touch her for fear of scaring her. She had shed her clothing in her sleep and I marveled at the small of her back, one of my favorite body parts and hers was beautiful. I could see her scars reflecting the moonlight, white against her shadowy back; she looked like a photo negative of a Bengal tiger.

I left her a brief note and quietly got dressed and snuck out of the bed room. For the first time I thought about the dog and I didn't know if I could leave without being attacked. He tried to walk as normally as possible. The dogs' eyes were open, but he didn't stir. I opened the door and locked the knob behind me. I would need to ask her for keys to the deadbolts, she had two, so that I could at least lock them when I left.

I passed the security desk, which would be unmanned until 4am, when the late shift would get there and wonder where the other guard was. Other people had to have been watching her, typing those reports, I figured two people at least. The security footage would tell the tale and hopefully reveal her stalker as well. I got my gun out of the glove box and grudgingly put it on. I felt as though I would fare better with a Kramer knife, a loop of 50lb fishing line and some M-99. If all cops enforced the law like I did the streets would get cleaned up pretty damn fast. I saw my phone was almost dead and plugged it in to charge and turned on my favorite band music.

I started my Maroon PoS and drove north to pick up Agent Connor at her hotel. She had me drive to a Publix parking lot a short distance away. I couldn't help but notice that she looked in the side mirror the whole way, "Problem?"

"No, I thought someone was following us, but it was just a cab. We should go grab some food and drinks we might have to stake this place out a while," she had me park and we quickly grabbed snacks and drinks. She stopped at a white panel van and put a duffel bag inside and locked it. I gave her a quizzical look, "the local office dropped it here for me in case we needed it."

"So, what are your thoughts?" I asked as we went into the store.

She eyed me sideways, "well I figured I would go back to basics. Serial killers are extremely fastidious or have a complete lack of hygiene."

"Right, Báthory would be the former. The meticulous nature of the footprints shows that, as well as the ritualistic nature of the kills and the preparation of the blood by heating it."

"Correct," she watched as I looked for the perfect bushel of bananas. "But, animal blood was used…"

I said in a daze, "…which meticulous killers would abhor. Unless…"

"…the animals were clean, sanctified, kosher, or free range or whatever," she finished.

"Right, they would need to be clean by whatever definition she / he / or they used. So, either she is buying the blood from clean sources like a kosher butchery or something. Or they are buying the animals from a free range or raising them on their own or both."

"Correct, so I figured the latter two are more likely…"

"…because they keep the human victims alive and fresh instead of storing the blood."

"Right," she continued. "So, the cow blood was probably purchased since that was ad hoc, and I have someone looking into that. But, they wouldn't use the same thing again. So, where would you store goats, dogs, or lambs in a city?"

"Old kennels, vets, the old dog track in homestead..."

"Right, there are fifteen vets and kennels that are out of business that are being checked. I didn't think about the track, I'll add it to the list. You missed one too… Miami modernized their zoo years ago to one of the free range things. The old one had the huge concrete pins… it's on Key Biscayne."

"Wow, that's perfect… you would be able to back trucks right up to the pins to unload. There would be acres and acres of land with no one going into it. The whole key is kind of isolated, and that place is ancient history. Outstanding…"

We checked out and loaded everything in a white panel van she had dropped there. She drove us there following her GPS and we debated whether to stake out the park or sweep it. We decided there would be too many ways into the park to stake it out on such short notice very efficiently.

She was wearing a business suit and skirt to which she motioned, "we should change, there's some tactical gear in that bag…" as she started to undo her jacket. Women have tried this before I thought wryly. I was above normal means of female persuasions, especially with Lumen back in my life. That thought rocked me for a moment, was it normal for a person to pick up right where they left off with an ex? I had blindly accepted her back into my confidence without as much as a second thought. What had I really known about Lumen Pierce, much less Dora Jones? Hell Angel had known more about her past than I had. I felt like a heel until I remembered Deb cheating on Anton as soon as Lundy reappeared, I mean the man still had jetlag when she started sleeping with him again. I guess love is all forgiving.

I changed into a kill outfit I brought with me. I stole the occasional glance to seem normal and tried not to roll my eyes when I saw she was wearing a guarder belt. Women only wore those when they were supposed to be seen. I finished quickly, but not too quickly, and opened the door and got out and shut it. She was only halfway through her display of feminine anatomy.

We also briefly debated whether or not to stay together or to split up. I was all about going solo, but the entire zoo grounds was overgrown, not to mention pitch black. We could wander around for hours looking for each other if we didn't stick together. We took our backpacks of food and water with us, so we could set up a stake out if we found the animals.

Lumen was sleeping as well as she had in years. There had been the prior night's dinner, dancing, and frivolity. Then more frivolity the next morning, she had dropped off the payroll, went for a blistering run and then a chase, broken in the neighbor's place twice, had a frantic quickie, intimately killed someone with her lover, drank a thirty thousand dollar bottle of wine, had seconds at dinner, took a pleasant nocturnal boat ride, had a long wonderful shower, and enjoyed a pleasant nightcap with her only two friends. Now she was enjoying the most expensive mattress on the planet next to her lover and protector and had Thomas and Zeus in the apartment as well. She knew the three of them would die or kill for her. There was absolutely no need to hide in the closet tonight.

Nothing could ruin this… except that man's blithering phone… She caught herself from moaning in protest, but it was a near thing. Her body had been trained to play dead so well that she gave no indication that she was awake.

"Morgan, someone had better be dead or someone's going to be…" He doesn't know how right he is, she thought bitterly. She heard the sound of a woman's cooing come hither voice on the other end; it sure as hell wasn't his sister. She could imagine Astor parodying the voice and almost laughed.

She felt him roll out of bed and went to the far closet to start getting dressed and could barely hear him whisper, "I'm at Miami Beach at 900 West Avenue, the South Gate Towers, where are you?" There was a pause and then, "…the Ritz Carlton, that's close. I'll come get you. I'll be there in five minutes."

She watched him dress in work clothes and debated her course of action. She felt bad now for saying she wanted to go straight to bed. She thought that she would trust him implicitly, but that was the distinctive mating call of the Home Wrecking Hussy, it made a very distinct call while in heat, especially noticeable to other rival females of the species. Just as she convinced herself that he was above reproach, she realized that he had never actually said anything about anyone since her or about anything else since she had left. Hell, he was a cop now and she hadn't known. Astor had told her that there was no one, but what if Astor didn't know. That would actually make Lumen the Home Wrecking Hussy, she didn't consider herself irresistible, but Dexter had very different tastes in women.

It would suit her right if he was just using her for sex, she thought bitterly. Not that she would mind at the moment, but she'd at least like to be informed on the matter. Or, maybe he wasn't in it for the sex, maybe he just missed having a partner in crime enough to put out for her? She wanted him to say something, anything. She wanted him to touch her shoulder or rub her hair, she knew he wouldn't. She felt him sit down on his side of the bed and pencil a note and felt him looking at her back. He obviously wanted to say something to her or felt as though he was supposed to and right now she would have taken either. 'Please just whisper it. Please just this once Dexter, I'm sleeping. I'll never know, it will be our secret.'

He ripped off the note and left it, although it sounded like it was grudgingly. As he shut the bed room door she knew she must take action. The note said that he had been called in, that there was a break in the Báthory case. It was signed with an X. She threw on a set of kill clothes fast, dressing in less than a minute but carrying her shoes and threw her web gear and work holster in a backpack and ran to the door. She opened the bedroom door slowly then ran to the front door Zeus wagged his tail in excitement, she patted his head and left. She didn't bother with the dead bolts and ran to the elevator. While she was waiting for it she put her shoes on. She got to the garage as he was leaving and was able to pace him to the hotel.

She suddenly felt like a fool. She thought that he was picking her up and taking her _to_ the hotel, not _from_ the hotel. 'Great job Lu, you're one of 'those' women…' she thought bitterly. Then she saw the cow come out with him, laughing and flipping her hair. Lu's eyes narrowed to slits knowing when she was outmatched, "Hussy," she fumed. She figured, 'well I'm already a jealous, stalking, mistrusting, insecure bitch. May as see this through…'

She followed them to Publix and saw her put something in the white van and they went inside. Lumen had a GPS tracking device, but she only had one. She debated which car and chose the van, in the long term she could do his car later if needed. As she placed it under the van, she was amazed that Dexter wasn't more high tech… this stuff is cheap enough. Hell they were selling remote control toy helicopters with night vision wireless cameras for thirty dollars at Target. She assumed either he was set in his ways or thought it took some of the fun out of it. She wasn't doing this for fun; well not _just_ for fun.

She went back to her car and followed them…


	30. Chapter 30: The Midnight Oil

Chapter 30

The Midnight Oil

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

Miami Metro Homicide

Debra Morgan had made sure she started coffee in all the coffee pots before everyone got there. Special Agent Eyelashes had suggested that they check out the kennels and vets that were out of business in the area, so they all poured in for their assignments. Everyone was blearily eyed but luckily appeared to be sober. Tony De Marco was there but in jeans and a bowling shirt but looked alert and spry. Angel Batista was the only one absent, he was on the other side of the city and had been on a date, he had to drop her off and he would double time it.

They were going to visit the sites and look for cars, lights, animal noises, or blood curdling screams in order to narrow their list of potential sites. Deb had added an old stockyard and an old Humane Society shelter that half way burned to the ground a year ago and had been rebuilt in another location. Everyone seemed to have a few places that they could think of that could potentially house animals temporarily if not indefinitely. They were putting map pins in the board to group as many locations together as possible and then take places closest to where they lived.

Deb's foot kicked something under the table, it was a gift bag. Then she remembered: it was Dexter's, he must have left it when he signed all the paperwork earlier. She started rooting through it; there was a display case with a medal in it the plaque read: National Intelligence Distinguished Service Medal. "Jesus…" She pulled another one out; it was a Key to the City of Miami. There were other smaller plaques, commendations, letters, and awards in the bags. "Jesus…" she repeated again drawing the attention of others who came to look at the awards on the table.

No wonder Mathews had been pissed at having all of these in his office, she guessed that he had been holding them hostage for a press conference that Dex refused to give. She knew he had been heroic as shit pushing that crazy bitch into that room and waiting for her to die as that gas bomb went off, but she never realized anyone else would be able to comprehend how brave it really was. She read the five page petition to the deputy director of the FBI that Frank Lundy had written about her brother and almost lost it. She could hear Lundy's voice narrating the words, and the best part was that he had written it two years before the gas attack even happened.

As they all started passing around the awards in awe, she looked up at the story board of the details of the Báthory killer, "Oh no… oh God!" She jumped up and ripped the pictures of the family of four down unceremoniously, shocking almost everyone. She drew a square where they had been and wrote DEXTER in it.

"She fucked up… Dexter fits… Look it, he's God damn decorated out the ass for saving a shit ton of lives in the line of duty. He also had chemical burns his lungs from the attack…"

Cira butted in, "Yeah, but didn't he recover from that?"

"Yes, but the newspapers made an epic deal out of it, like he was going to die like Doc Holiday at the end of Tombstone or something! They hounded on that more than John Kerry's twenty purple hearts…"

Quinn's eyes lit up, "Oh damn, that family of four died for nothing! They lived in 10D and Dex lives in 10B. D…B… easy to mistake over the phone, that family died over a damn typo. That's why all four were taken, she was sitting in there waiting for Dex to come home, but he never did, because he didn't fucking live there. They were in the wrong condo! The two teenagers came home, their Latinos but roughly the same age as Astor and Cody and the killer could have known Dexter's kids were adopted, so race wouldn't matter; they were from another marriage. Mom comes home and maybe thinks she's Jamie Batista. Father came home last and only then did they figure out they fucked up big time..."

Mike Anderson butted in, "there is something else…" he sounded very ominous. He got up and started writing on the board, but he was tall and wide and no one could see. "I thought about this the other day but with only two victims, it could have been coincidence… He stepped out of the way and he had written Fire, Water, Air, and then Earth with a question mark. "Each of the three victims was injured by one of the four elements… Fire, Water, and Dexter is Air. Earth could have already happened, or it will happen. Cave-ins, mining accidents, earthquakes, mudslides, lava eruptions… we need to relook and other cases from four months ago to see if that makes anyone fit. Where the hell is he anyway?" he asked suddenly fear crept into his usually calm voice…

"He's supposed to be with Agent Connor… They were going out to Key Biscayne to check out the old zoo. She was going to pick him up; he has been at his new girlfriends place the last few nights… oh _FUCK_," Deb whipped out her phone just as it rang… "Morgan!" she practically yelled. She listened for a moment before bolting out of chair and shouting, _"Yes, it's fucking serious! Do what he said God damn it! Send the air units; send everyone for Christ's sake! Everyone! Miami metro homicide is in route, send paramedics too!"_ To their credit no one asked questions, not even the outsider FDLE man, they just grabbed their belongings and hit theelevator. Once it was going down she said in a shaky voice, "Dexter's son Cody just dialed 911 and said that the Báthory killer was in his house and he requested full tactical and air support."


	31. Chapter 31: Meant to be Broken

Chapter 31

Meant to be Broken

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

Apartment 10b

When Cody Morgan was adopted by Dexter, he had chosen to take Dexter's last name where as Astor had kept her mother's last name of Bennett. There were times when he regretted it, mainly after his mother died. Mostly he regretted it because it was different than Astor's, he lamented it and wished that they had picked as a tandem, especially now that Astor was the only Bennett.

Cody had chosen to take Dexter's name before his mother had been murdered under the childish assumption that it would bind Dexter to them all. You see Dexter wasn't his father, and never would be, but he was the Dad that he had always dreamt of having. Sure he had his faults, he was on call all the time for instance, but Cody knew that they were barely keeping their financial heads afloat. He knew Dexter didn't enjoy working as much as he did, but he had to support four people, five if you count the live in nanny, on a meager salary.

Cody wasn't a fool, he knew Dexter wasn't always 'working' when he was out, he could tell by the clothes he wore and the boat keys wouldn't be hanging on the wall. But these days he really was working a lot, he figured his dad was working 70-80 hours a week. Once there was a two week period with very few homicides and Cody had caught him in the middle of the night fretting over which bills wouldn't get paid. Cody had given him two hundred dollars of his birthday and Christmas money; of course he tried not to take it. Cody told him that he was following Dexter's rules; one of which was to love and support each other, which forced Dexter to take it. Cody asked him to pay the Cable bill and for Astor's phone with it; since they were their two favorite luxury expenses and joked that he would pray for more homicides next week...

All in all he thought that Dexter was a wonderful dad. He was fun to be around, never ever hurt any of them, or screamed at them, or got drunk or high and beat on them. He always tried to be understanding no matter what; he always let them state their case or point of view and sincerely considered it. Honesty was paramount to him; if Cody burned the whole place down he knew that he should be honest and admit it. If he lied he knew he would be in more trouble for the lie than for the fire. Most parents say that but don't _mean_ it, Dexter really meant it.

Dexter only had ten rules, he didn't call them commandments, but he and his sister did. Cody learned the hard way once that they weren't listed in the order of severity, but alphabetically, just like his shopping lists:

Above all else make your Mother proud; any other rule could be broken if mom would approve.

Always love and support each other, we are all we have.

Be tidy and proper.

Be where you say you are and always be punctual.

Never break the tie that binds (more on this later).

Never lie to your family.

No non-family members in the house, _ever, for any reason_.

Once words were spoken they can never be taken back, always chose them carefully.

Watch over Harrison, he can't do it himself. If there's danger, get him out of the house.

When there was danger, call 911 as a _last_ resort and _always_ assess the situation first.

The first rule was the catch all. What would your mother say about what you're doing? Dexter didn't mean it as a cheap shot, far from it. He explained that he knew that he couldn't replace her, but don't disgrace her memory by running amuck and make Dexter be the bad guy. These rules were fairly common sense oriented and mostly were a reflection of Dexter's inability to be there on a consistent basis. Sex, drugs, alcohol, open flame or tobacco weren't on the list yet, but Cody felt that they would be added soon and would likely be capital crimes.

After his mother died Cody had dreams about her almost every night for a year. He used to consider them nightmares because they were so vivid and he would always wake up crying. Sometimes he thought he could smell her hair and hear the soft cooing of her voice. He had them rarely now and these days he wished he had them more often, he knew they would stop altogether soon. It was getting harder and harder for him to remember what she looked like, much less what she smelled like.

He was having such dream tonight. He was standing on a deserted beach with her, she was standing next to him with her arm around him, and he was watching the fierce wind blow into her face causing her hair to trail behind her. She looked at him with her gentle eyes and spoke in her soft voice, "You've all been through so much, and you've all made me so proud." She trailed her fingers through his hair, "You've been so strong Cody, but it looks like there's another storm coming…" He looked out at the ocean which was enveloped by a dark and tumultuous sky; the waves were breaking high and had a very hurricane type look to them, so quite a storm was indeed coming. "You had better go and get ready for it Cody, this is going to be a bad one…" he snapped awake.

He was sitting up in bed, covered in sweat. He got up and peeled of his sweat pants and shirt, it was supposed to be a cool night but it was hot in here. He wiped his face of both sweat and tears. He saw himself in the mirror and didn't recognize himself for a second. He had grown a foot in the last year and was Dexter's height already and he was still getting used to being this tall. He had always played sports and his muscles now looked stretched and gangly, he looked like a starving coyote. He was growing his hair out and had past what Astor has teased as 'the Justin Bieber phase' and was now able to tuck it behind his ears. Dexter didn't mind, he told him he tried to grow his once, but it was just too damn hot in Miami. Dexter had shown him a picture and he was kind of shocked at how similar they looked at fourteen.

He walked to the kitchen in his boxers and poured himself a glass of milk. He heard a scratching noise and whipped his head around to the door; he could hear someone outside of it. He slowly crept to the window and looked out; there were two men in dark jackets and ninja style masks screwing around with the door, one had a pistol out. He almost dropped his glass in shock. He set it on the counter and looked at the key holder in the kitchen, Dexter's and Astor's were gone meaning that they weren't home. He bolted down the hall to his room and grabbed his cell phone and pocket knife from his bedside table.

He flipped open the phone and dialed 911 and put it on speaker phone. He flipped open his knife and cut the tie that binds. There went two rules at once, three if you counted Astor being MIA. The tie that binds was a symbolic knot on chests that his father bought him and Astor, which were used to put things that were dangerous in. The knots were complex and they didn't know how to retie them. They were only to be cut if Dexter was there. Cody's chest contained a great many things, mostly fireworks and combustible materials used to fuel his rockets. He also had a .22 caliber revolver.

"_Hello, this is 911 what's the emergency?"_

He got the gun case out along with shells and started loading it."Listen carefully, I know that I am a teenager, but this is NOT a prank. Please alert Lt. Debra Morgan and Dexter Morgan of Metro Homicide that armed intruders are in Cody Morgan's house. Tell them it may be the Báthory Killer; four people went missing from our apartment this week. Please send any available units now, including air units and nautical units; our door is ten feet from the bay. Do you understand?"

"_Yes sir, dialing now Lt Morgan now. Patrol units are on route. Please leave the line open…"_

Cody turned the speaker phone off and clipped it to his boxers which were luckily too tight, just like most of his other clothes, which kept them from sliding off. He grabbed the Crown Royal bag that held his ammo and grabbed 2 M80 firecrackers and his lighter from the chest. He ducked into the hall and peered around the corner, they were in the house already but still near the door. There were three at least; one was crouching in the doorway still.

He lit the two M80's and tossed them down the long hallway, into Dexter's room. He could hear one of the men coming into the living room, towards him. BAM the first one went off and Cody leaned out from around the corner to see all the men looking the other way, towards Dexter's main door in the front of the house. Cody exhaled and fired two smooth shots into the closest man, who was about ten feet from him; his right side was facing him. CRACK One bullet hit his shoulder CRACK and the other went high but must have hit the neck; he saw blood arc through the darkness, which the swimming pools reflection back lit for an eerie contrast. The man dropped his gun and clutched at his throat.

BAM, the other M80 went off few seconds after the first. Cody could hear Harrison crying in his room. He fired two more shots at the second man, CRACK the first was at gut level and went a few inches wide right smashing through the slatted Old Florida windows, CRACK the second was rushed, he overcompensated and it went high left and imbedded in the window AC unit smashing part of the grill. The other two men seemed to get the point and made for the door, he fired his last two bullets and the fleeing second man. The first bit into the door frame, the second he lost in the dark or it hit him and he couldn't tell.

The man in the doorway fired at Cody and missed but it didn't sound like a gun, it almost sounded like a paintball gun, whatever he fired made a TINK noise as it hit something metal and then something skittered across the floor in the dark. Cody ducked around the corner and knelt and dumped his empty shells and reloaded as quickly as he could manage with his fingers shaking. He heard Jamie Batista, Angel's kid sister and Harrison's nanny; fling her door open "What the hell…" she began.

"_Jamie, get in Harrison's room and get him under the bed. There are men in the house, the police are coming_," he screamed.

Cody was angry; he was angrier than he had ever been in his short life, he had heard about people 'seeing red' but thought it was an exaggeration. Now he knew differently, 'Son of a bitch must pay…' he thought with the bravado that only comes with the invincibility and ignorance of youth. He charged through the living room and almost slipped in something, and dove out the front door and turned left; something crunched under his feet as he ran and he ducked around the corner and took the stairs at the end that only he ever used. They had about a sixty second head start that he spent reloading.

He tore down the side walk as people were coming outside to see what was going on. Cody screamed, "Get inside! Get inside! Lock your doors!" he sprinted past Angelica from 3B and wished he had time to admire her; she looked hot with tousled hair and was wearing next to nothing. "Angelica, get inside and get down!" She was partly to blame for his lack of dreaming about his mother these days, she was a year older than him and totally missed the awkward teenage phase and ascended straight to goddessdom. 'Please, God, be the black boxers…' he prayed with vanity.

He pumped his legs as fast as he could and got to the parking lot in time to see two black SUV's peeling out of the parking lot, he emptied the gun into the back of the closest one, which seemed to inspire the driver who cut through the grass to exit the parking lot, the custodian was going to be pissed about the grass. He kept running until the end of the block and grabbed his phone.

_ "Sir, Sir!" _Obviously she had been trying to talk to him for awhile now. He bet she took him seriously when she started hearing gun fire.

"Yeah, shut it! Two black Yukon's one turned north and one turned south on Main Hwy. One north, one south bound! You got that? The south bound has bullet holes in the back. I can hear the sirens, get them on it. Subjects are armed. We got one intruder down in apartment 10B and need an ambulance. Where are my damn air units at?" he almost laughed after he demanded it with authority, he swore his voice sounded flat and even like Dexter's when he was angry.

He looked around and saw a trash can with a fast food bag next to it. He grabbed it and dumped the bag out and tossed his gun in it and started trotting back to the house. He heard the lady squawking and hit speaker again. "Lt Morgan is in route as are the air units. Please put your weapon down, officers are arriving on scene." Yeah, no shit lady, Miami cops would dump two hundred rounds in him and then politely ask him to drop the gun.

He ran back to the apartment, realizing that Jamie must be losing her shit, plus he really didn't look that hard at how wounded the first man was, it had looked bad though.

He got back to the parking lot and his heart sank because there he found, discarded in the parking lot, a pair of high heels… they were Prada's. The same ones Astor had lusted after for two months until Aunt Deb was suckered into buying them last weekend. They had her. "Operator, we have what appears to be an abduction. Astor Bennett, a White, 15 year old, female, shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, 5'9 120 lbs, and has a foul mouth. Please put out an Amber Alert…" he lowered the phone… "_FUCK_!" He picked up the shoes and walked back to his apartment.

Angelica was watching through her window, he tried not to notice. Jamie was on the living room floor pressing a towel to the man's neck. He appeared to be unconscious and he thought about reloading his gun, but thought he should follow his own advice. He took the gun out and placed it on the stove, along with the shoes and his face split in a chaotic grin, he picked up his abandoned glass of milk and drained it… He grabbed a t-shirt and some jeans and heard the police and paramedics in the other room.

He came back out getting dressed as he went, "dispatcher, the EMTs and uniforms are here thanks for hanging in there with me, Cody Morgan signing off."

_ "Thank you…Mr." _Cody flipped the phone closed in a classic Dexter move, not waiting for the other side to respond.

"Good evening gentlemen," Four patrolmen were here sweeping the house and two paramedics were working on the intruder. Cody had his hands over his head pulling his shirt over his head, he intentionally did it that way so they could see he wasn't armed, "…sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting company. Coffee…?" he offered them genuinely in a smooth even tone which clearly caught them off guard.

"No thank you sir, we need to take your statement…"

"Yeah, let's step outside… enough of my father's rules have been broken tonight…" they walked downstairs where Cody decided to sit on the stairs.

"My statement goes like this: my sister Astor Bennett is missing, possibly the victim of a kidnapping. White, 15 year old, female, shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, 5'9 120 lbs, and has a foul mouth. I'll post a picture… Please put out an Amber Alert, she is believed to be in one of two black Yukon's, one turned north and one turned south on Main Hwy."

"Yes sir, there is a pursuit ongoing… now about the break in and shooting…"

"Oh, that statement… I'm a minor and cannot be questioned without the presence of a parent, guardian or legal counsel…" he said as he started to look at the bottom of his feet which he realized were bothering him.

"What?" the officer said incredulously.

"He said he's a minor and cannot be questioned without the presence of a parent, guardian, or legal counsel…" Deb repeated from the top of the stairs. She maneuvered past the gurney with the wounded man on it; she directed them to take him down the length of the upper floor, the way she had come. "I'll take this from here; there are a lot of people out here. Start questioning them before they go back to bed."

"Sure thing Lieutenant," the beat cop slumped away.

"Jesus Cody, look at your feet!" she saw the blood all over them.

"Oh, that's his…" he pointed to the pool of blood.

"No Cody, this is fresh fucking blood. There are bloody foot prints all the way down the side walk…" her voice trailed off a little; he could see her putting the pieces of something together. She looked at the bottom of his feet, "Jesus ass fucking Christ, that doesn't hurt?!"

He looked at deep cuts that were on the bottom of both feet, "No, it doesn't," he said honestly. "I bet it will tomorrow…"

She spoke into her walkie talkie, "we need another medic in 10b, and victim has been exposed to foreign blood, he may have HIV exposure."

"Cody, what the hell happened?"

"Are you asking as my Aunt or Miami Metro?"

"Your Aunt douche…"

"That one's too easy… I was asleep. Something woke me up and I came out to get some milk and heard a noise at the door…" he went on to explain what happened. A paramedic came and dug some of the glass out; Cody had run through the glass from the window slats that he shot out. "Do you think my mom would be proud?" he asked in a questioning voice which at last betrayed his age.

"Hell fucking yeah. I know I am! You did really well tonight. Do you know where Dexter is?"

"He's not on his boat, so I assumed he was working or staying out tonight. He was gone last night too… Astor knows what's going on but won't tell me, she was acting like it's a Christmas present or something."

"Well, he has a new girlfriend I think and the Chief made him a full detective on homicide yesterday. That's like four promotions at once."

"Wow… okay, he has really been pushing himself. I know things have been looking bad," he said distractedly, clearly thinking about his sister.

"Don't worry, we got a fuck ton of people on it thanks to you, we'll find her…" she said in a believable tone.

Angelica walked half a step around the corner a stopped abruptly obviously not expecting them to be sitting there, she had taken the time to don a robe though. Deb didn't need to be a detective to figure this out, she stood abruptly and said, "I need to go check on the pursuit…" as she walked past Angelica she whispered, "It's okay, talk to him a few minutes… He could use it," and shook her hand in a 'hot' motion when only Cody was looking.

"So, I was thinking of going up to the pier for Halloween…" he started.

"I'd love to…" she blurted before he was finished. There was a long extremely awkward silence between the two, "well, I'll see you tonight…"

"Hey Angelica?" he asked as she turned to leave.

"Yeah?" she asked tentatively.

"I know you put a lot of work into your hair and makeup when you go out, but the tousled 'just out of bed' look is totally hot on you, completely Julia Roberts on Pretty woman."

She ran her hand though itself consciously, blushing. They both heard her father yell for her, "…night Cody." Apparently Angelica liked bad boys…


	32. Chapter 32: Three Blind Mice

Chapter 32

Three Blind Mice

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

When Angel Bastia purchased the Trans Am of his dreams, his friends had mocked and ridiculed him for months and now at last it was paying off. He heard a small female voice speak up from beside him, he had been so focused he had forgotten that he wasn't alone in the car.

"Does that say we are going one hundred and fifty?!"

He glanced over quickly and was shocked that she didn't look afraid, the minute red head next to him had one hand clutching the door and the other grabbing the seat and had her feet planted in the floorboard but the look on her face told a different story, starting at the fact that she was biting her lip. "Do you want to look at the road?! Just saying…"

"Yeah, I'm terribly sorry about that."

He watched the broken lines on the freeway and was amazed that they were solid now and saw the blue lights of the squad cars reflect of the sound barrier walls on the side of the highway.

"Who _are_ you?!" she asked in awe. He asked her to go for a ride at the bar; this isn't exactly what she had in mind.

"Ah my apologies, Angel Batista-No-Relation…" he pried her hand from the seat and kissed it.

"Rebecca Carver -God-I-Hope-Not," she oozed.

He looked at her half in shock and half in idolatry, and she simply pointed at the road.

_ "Air unit one: Black Yukon still north bound and is now on I-95and approaching you 5200, head on… the road is clear Sarg."_

_ "Dispatch: to all units, suspects may have a hostage; Amber Alert has been issued for Astor Bennett, a 15 year old, Caucasian, female, brown hair, green eyes, 5'9 120 lbs. It has been confirmed suspects are armed._"

"Hail Mary full of grace…" Batista grabbed the mike, "This is 5200, let's set it up. Two of you form up in the middle of the road; the least tenured of you pull back with me, make sure and toss your sticks out. Be careful who you're shooting at, that girl is my God daughter!" The two units pulled in front of him as they rapidly decelerated. They formed a wedge and tossed out their stop strips, which are designed to folded out and puncture tires.

"Be careful who you shoot? Wow, really?" she marveled, "awesome!"

He stopped 50 feet from the other cars and got out, "Come on," he motioned her out of the car. "These pendejo are crazy… You…" he pointed to the patrolman, "take my lady friend home, or to her car and double time it back here. Anyone asks you were clearing a car off the highway, comprende?" he said as he grabbed a huge revolver from under the seat. Miami PD cops were allowed to carry a heavy weapon of choice; Batista used the term very loosely.

She scribbled something down and pressed it in his hand, "Call me, Friday night?"

"You already gave me your number…"

"That's my real one, please use it…"

"Go, get her outta here…"

"Please tell me you're not compensating for something…" she said looking at the massive revolver as he ran off.

"Okay, you aim for the windshield until it spider webs, then shoot for the tires along with everyone else. I will go for the radiator and the engine."

"Jesus Sarg, what the hell is that?" a baby faced rookie asked in awe looking at his hand canon.

"Dirty Harry's wet dream kid…" He rested the .454 Casull Taurus on the roof of the car and waited. They could see the chopper drawing closer, but there was an overpass one hundred feet in front of them the concealed their ambush, this was a common ambush site. The overpass worked as a hunter's blind and as a safe backdrop for weapons fire. The SUV ramped over the hill and the front wheels hung in the air for a split second. The shotgun rounds cracked the windshield and Batista hand cannon blasted through the radiator and bounced around under the hood. The patrolmen with an AR-15 assault rifle started taking single shots at the tires his first 3 missed his fourth hit the front passengers tire as the vehicle came down on it.

The tire blew out, the vehicle banked hard right and went down an embankment, and it hit a temporary construction barrier and flipped and spun through the air end over end and crashed down on a tanker truck that had been stopped when the police closed the on ramps. The tanker was full, which was both a blessing and a curse. It didn't explode like an atom bomb, but sprayed fluid in all directions like a ruptured water balloon. Batista and the other officers started to duck and when it didn't explode like a bomb they all stood upright and craned their necks. Then with a sudden WHOOMP noise the gasoline erupted all at once. Luckily some of the drivers weren't as stunned as the police and many hammered their accelerators and rocketed in all directions, even after the fire started.

"Oh, Jesus… Astor…" Batista saw the fire ball shoot high into the air and almost engulfed the helicopter which banked wildly and Angel could hear the screaming from the cars and knew there was nothing he could do; the heat was blistering even from where he was. He ran back to his car, "This is 5200 we have a tanker truck explosion also involving the chase vehicle and other cars. We need all available fire and rescue units to respond."

He quickly made a cross and muttered the Lord's Prayer, "Dios te salve María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo, bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. A mén."

Cira Manzon and Joey Quinn dodged and weaved more around each other and other cars than around the Yukon that they were chasing. They threw each other a glance, Quinn glared at her for almost scratching his Caddy because; believe it or not he wasn't made out of money. His inheritance had long since run its course and ever since Dexter caught him pocketing that wad of cash he had tried not to dip into the cookie jar, and had mostly succeeded. Cira had a maniacal look on her face as if she were chasing him and not the suspects.

They cut in and out and kept funneling the Yukon away from the highway and waited for them to make a mistake. They cut through a road block by going the wrong way down a one way street and cut onto Bird Road.

_ "Air unit 2, Black Yukon south is now west bound on Bird Road and approaching SW 72nd and headed toward Don Shula Expressway… Freight Train is approaching Bird from 72nd north."_

The Yukon driver, Manzon and Quinn all saw the train at the same time and all had the same reaction, they punched it. It was a slow moving freight and they all push their cars trying to beat the locomotive. If the Yukon made it and they didn't, chances were that they were going to make it the Don Shula and it would be next to impossible to catch them after that. The Yukon cleared the first set of tracks with ten feet to spare; it was the second set of tracks that was that problem. The freight train was going slow in order to let a passenger train on the other side pass it. The trains were traveling the same direction and the freight hid the other train from view. As soon as the SUV cleared the first train, it was virtually disintegrated by the second train.

Cira and Joey had been almost side by side, Cira saw the car as it was lit up by the second trains headlights and locked up her brakes just in time, Joey had been looking over at Cira until he heard the sound of the SUV being annihilated and by then it was too late, he stood on the breaks and whipped the wheel left away from the freight and punched it. Turning left is the only thing that saved his life, at least for the moment. The Caddy jumped forward just as the train hit it, propelling it forward and the back of the car started to rise up the train rather than being pulled underneath it. It pushed the car over, back over front before pushing the car sideways of the tracks. By the time the train discarded its new toy the Caddy was less than half its normal size.

Cira had been depressing the button on her mic about to update the chase status, when the awful sound of the SUV being destroyed reached her then she saw Joey's car being hit by the train. Her hand clutched involuntarily around the mic at the sound of the impacts, "JOEY!" she shrieked into her open mic.

_ "This is Air unit 2, we have an officer involved collision at Bird and trains are derailing; need EMS from the west side of the tracks for the officer and police and rescue on the west side for the suspect vehicle. All units east of the tracks break off pursuit_…"

Tony De Marco with FDLE Homicide had been to the city of Miami a hundred times, at least, and it was one of his favorite places on earth. It was almost criminal that fine tax payers of the State of Florida always footed the bill for his visits, not to mention the murder victims. There were better cities, better beaches, and climates in the state, but the food! Oh, the food is the real selling point to him, not only the Cuban, but also the Jamaican, Caribbean, and Puerto Rican cuisines were to die for. Even the American food tasted different as it was influenced by different cultures.

The best seafood in the country, outside of his fine home state of Louisiana that is, was in Miami. But as always he over indulged and as a result his heartburn was killing him. Reaching for his Costco sized bottle of Tums caused him to miss a red light, which the others all made, on the way to the crime scene. He lamented the fact that there would be just scraps left by the time he got there, until he saw a black Yukon cross him at the intersection going the opposite direction just as the APB for two black Yukon's came out. But he was too far from the crime scene… it couldn't be them. When he was a rookie he would have listened to that voice and blew it off. At his three year service mark he would have torn ass after it sirens and guns blazing. Five years ago he would have slowly pulled out and followed it.

But De Marco was better than that now. He counted to ten then turned and followed it. He heard the chaos and explosions of all hell breaking loose on the radio and he was glad that he could say he was nowhere near it. But every single hair on his body was standing on end; he knew that in reality he was neck deep in it. He was glad he had waited the long ten seconds, because the car was driving anti-erratically. Real criminals drove a few miles under the speed limit, always used their blinkers, and drove in a very cautious manner. No one in Miami except perps drove like this, or people looking for an assisted suicide. That extra ten seconds allowed him to hide the fact that he was following them. You see if you are the only one driving the speed limit it is easy to tell when you are being tailed. The extra time equaled extra distance that he used to get behind other cars, pull into gas stations just to turn back on to the road again and other such maneuvers to try to look like no one was tailing them. He debated calling it in, but from the sound of things they would call in artillery and air strikes. He did what good cops did, he watched and waited…


	33. Chapter 33: Crocodile Tears

Chapter 33

Crocodile Tears

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

Key Biscayne

I, Dexter Morgan, sat in the darkness of night staring up at the glorious moon, it majesty ruined by the presence of my companion and the lack of other human predators in the general vicinity. It was almost pitch black and Agent Connor and I had quickly come to the conclusion that we had to use our flashlights after we had a few close encounters with rubble and other refuse, not to mention the fact that the local flora and fauna had nearly reasserted themselves with a vengeance. We used a large Maglite that she had brought with her; I had a small one that we decided to save incase it was needed. So, I hovered close to her mimicking her steps as we proceeded into the long abandoned Zoo.

Special Agent Aida Connor at least wasn't squeamish and wasn't afraid to get dirty. She also wasn't a complainer, which completely surprised me. We searched pen after pen and came up empty. As we were working our way back towards the front, we heard what sounded like a shriek, a bird maybe, and a lot of movement and then a loud splash. We both shrugged and headed towards the noise.

Lumen Pierce cursed her lack of planning; she never should have followed them into the zoo. It was pitch black and although she had a flashlight, she couldn't use it, as they were and still maintain her anonymity. She quickly fell behind them, having to stumble through the darkness tripping on debris and vegetation that was reasserting its dominance. Several times she almost fell into a culvert or a steep drop off, where the railing or ropes that used to segregate it from the foot paths had long since rotted away.

She felt like a complete fool for even being out here and tried to turn back, but the zoo had apparently been designed by the same people that planned the cities in Florida and their accursed cul de sacs. Oh, how she missed Minneapolis and their simple grid patterns to their streets.

She tried to find her way back to her car and was nearing a large structure that she remembered as being near the front of the park; she was circling a long concrete wall that was about waist high when she heard what sounded like a bunch of kittens meowing. She looked left for the source, slightly curious. Before she saw anything she heard a second sound from behind her, it was a massive rumbling almost like a motorcycle only a few feet away.

She had no idea what the noises were, but she knew the noise behind her was from something larger than her and it was very angry sounding. She pushed up with her arms and jumped onto the stone wall with no time to spare, as the creature slammed into the wall right where she had been and something grabbed the sleeve of her sweat shirt and yanked.

The wall was about a meter across and she desperately tried to pull herself across to the other side, but it had a firm hold on her baggy shirt sleeve and yanked her torso backward as she flipped over and twisted onto her belly and flung her feet over the other side of the railing. She lifted her head and saw she was face to face with her assailant, a huge alligator that had the baggy sleeve of her shirt in its mouth.

She shrieked in fright as she saw the massive eye blink, it was just a few inches from her face, and out of nothing but reflex she straightened her arms and let gravity do the rest as the weight of her dangling feet pulled her out of her sweat shirt and she fell over the other side of the wall, and fell, and fell… She screamed just as she hit the water twenty feet down from where she fell and she was thankful for the water for a moment, until she realized that could be more gators in it. Her feet hit the bottom of the moat and she pushed off with all her strength even as she gagged on the muddy brackish water. She shot to the surface and looked very comical for a few moments as she frantically dog paddled to the side of the moat and pulled herself out. People from Minnesota weren't known for their swimming skills, but Dexter had made her learn to tread water and she was thankful that the side was so close to the bank.

Before she could assess her surroundings, she vomited violently for several moments and when she turned on her Maglite, thankful for its rubber seals, she saw why. She had fallen twenty feet or more into what must have been a bear or lion habitat at some time which was surrounded by a moat of reeking ink black water and as she shined her light on it she could see the mosquito larva, tadpoles and other foulness teaming below the surface. Hearing a noise behind her she spun around and dozen or so lambs wedged into the far corner of the pin, opposite her.

Looking at the wall surrounding the pin, she frantically looked for a way out. She saw a door near the back wall; it was locked and looked like it was a thousand years old. She saw the animal door to the inside of the building, which was about twenty feet high and made to look like a cliff face, the door was about four feet high and open. She ran over and ducked inside. There was a trough of food and clean water inside for the animals, which she found perplexing and for the first time wondered what the hell the lambs were doing here; for that matter why were Dexter and Trixie Trollop here?

Suddenly, with urgency spawned by the complete ignorance of her situation, she began to frantically try to pick the lock of the door to the outside. She heard a moan from behind her and whipped around looking for the source and saw nothing. She heard it again and looked up and scanned the ceiling with her Maglite.

"Jesus," she exclaimed, her mouth agape. Hoisted above her near the ceiling was a man who had been crucified and hoisted up to the ceiling. He was looking at her, his face full of pleading, pain, and fear. He was a middle aged Hispanic man who was naked and had IVs of saline in both arms. He also had other tubes in both feet that had blood flowing through them which was collecting in a glass bottle that was hanging on the cross. He was trying to speak but couldn't.

"Oh, fuck…" looking at the crucified man she realized that she was in danger; she knew the work of a sociopath when she saw one and this was it. Then she suddenly remembered Dexter's note, they had a lead on the Báthory Killer… She was in the lair of a killer with no clue as to: who they were, where they were, or when they would be back. Suddenly she felt like the dumb blond that dies first in all the horror movies. "Stay there…" she told him stupidly, "duh, of course you will. I'll go get help…" she said out of habit, not even considering that he might not speak English.

She grabbed the knob on the door and turned it and shouldered the door. It flew open so fast that she landed on her face hard, "Damn it, it was unlocked?! Great one Lu, like your face isn't flat enough…" Just then she heard voices, she stood up and closed the door. She recognized Dexter's voice but couldn't hear the woman's yet. She looked down at herself, she was covered in slime, her nose was dripping blood from her impact with the sidewalk, and her sweat shirt had been eaten leaving her in a thin wet camisole and no bra. 'Great', she thought 'I look like a crazy homeless person'.

She moved away from the voices as fast as she dared and noticed that the sun must be about to come up because the sky was a lot lighter than it had been. She reached for her phone out of reflex because she had notated the location of her car on her map app. But even if it hadn't been in her sweatshirt pocket, which she was sure the gator was now digesting, it would have been dunked into that filth along with the rest of her. She stumbled toward what she believed to be the front of the park as fast as she could.

"I swore I saw light shine through the cracks in one of the animal buildings, like a flashlight," I muttered to Connor. She nodded and we proceeded towards the building as fast as we could. A few moments later we heard a door slam. We hurried around the building, guns drawn, which seemed so cliché that I almost laughed. "Sorry," I said as she glared at me. We went to open the door and I got out my flashlight and we swept the room. We saw the troughs of food and water and ducked through the waist sized door to the habitat and saw the lambs and they knew we were in the right place.

"Look at this Connor…" I pointed at the ground where a slimy trail leads out of the moat and there was a pool of vomit a short way off. I got a cotton swab of the vomit before it dried and labeled it.

"This makes no sense, how did they fall in? Why would they be this far out here?" she asked.

"Maybe she jumped in? Something might have fallen in there that she needed?"

"No," she rebuked, "there's nothing anyone needs that bad…"

"Maybe they fell?" I pointed above them.

"I'll go look around the edge and see what's up there. We did hear a loud splash…" She walked back through the habitat and out of the building and around the side. "Hey there's a shirt up here… FUCK!" I saw her jump up on the narrow wall, standing on it.

"What is it?"

"A damn gator, a huge one… are they protected?"

"No, not anymore" I began as she drew her gun and fired half a dozen rounds. "Well, I guess our stake out is over…"

"You should come up here for the discovery…"

"Alright, I'll be right up…"

On the way out I heard the man above me moan, and I stared up in astonishment. If it weren't for the Dooms Day Killer I would have been impressed, but now this just appeared to be a cheap knock off. This was sloppy work; nothing about any of this looked well planned out. The man looked like he had been bound to the mast of a small sail boat which had been crudely cut down to size. The knots holding it aloft were rudimentary and poorly done; I was half way surprised they weren't tied with a bow. The IVs in his feet were inserted from top to bottom instead of the other way around, resulting in gravity pulling on the skin and the vein instead of hanging nicely.

For about the fortieth time I reached for my phone that wasn't there, instead I ducked back out to the habitat area, "Hey Conner, I found a victim: he's alive. I left my phone in my car, call it in!"

She appeared at the wall, "I left mine in the van when I changed. I'll be right down…"

She was carrying a thin green long sleeved hoodie, holding it with two pinched fingers. I threw her a scolding look, "you shouldn't have touched that… Discovery always holds up better if someone else is there."

"Yeah, well gator urine rolls down hill. I figured moving it verses soaking it in urine would do less damage."

"Fine, please come help me get this guy down…"

For the next fifteen minutes we lowered the cross to the ground and I sent Connor back to get her phone while I unhooked the IVs draining his blood and tried to give him some water, although he was still unconscious which made things difficult. A short time later I heard a ringing sound and looked around frantically and heard the cell phone ringing in the sweatshirt pocket. The shirt had been hung on a hook on the wall, thankful that I had my latex gloves on, I reached in and grabbed the phone as I heard the door creak open.

"Hey Connor, we aren't the only ones that lost our phones…" I said as I turned and saw the curvy silhouette in the doorway with the sun directly behind her illuminating her golden hair and I realized it wasn't Connor… But my eyes quickly trained on the gun in her hand. I heard a noise that sounded like a cough and felt a stabbing pain in the middle of my chest. As I fell to the ground the only thing I could think of was why on Earth would someone use a silencer all the way out here?


	34. Chapter 34: The Shell Game

***Update number two this week if you missed the other... please review. Might be further updates this week.

Chapter 34

The Shell Game

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

The city streets

Earlier that evening Astor Bennett was laying half way back in the seat of some guys Camaro watching the street lights go by with a whoosh, nodding slightly as each one went by. She hadn't known him that long; he worked her favorite bookstore, or rather the coffee stand in it. He had always pestered her for a date, but he wasn't really her type. He was way too serious and cerebral. She knew it was going to be a long boring date, other than the time they were at the concert; he had scored tickets to a band that she really wanted to see.

In order to not make the night utterly dismal she had brought along a little chemical assistance, an ecstasy tab that she scored from a friend. She was hot even though she had three of the cars AC vents blowing on her full blast and wondered if she was ODing. She realized that she had been talking rapidly for a really long time and had no idea what she had just been saying. She turned and asked the man next to her, "Cory, what was I saying?" He had told her he was eighteen but she figured he was really twenty or so, but that was okay she told him she was seventeen and with that thought she couldn't hold back a giggle.

"Man, I have no idea. You have been going nonstop since we left the concert. Are you okay?" he asked and she thought that he looked half concerned, but there was also a slight leering look in his eyes. There was a final whoosh, whoosh, of lights and then he turned down a side street which looked poorly lit and unfamiliar to her.

Astor glared at him with squinted eyes. She crossed her arms in a childish display of pouting. "I'm not sure where you think you're going, but I can tell you that you're not going to get anywhere." Ecstasy was supposed to make you more trusting, but she wasn't that trusting to being with. Her mother had gotten pregnant with her by some loser in High school and she still remembered how that turned out and she damn sure wasn't going to let that happen to her.

"What?" he looked at her, not understanding what was said.

"If you turned down here to make out or something you're not going to get far. Take me home…"

"But, I just thought…"

"No, you didn't or we wouldn't be down here," she snapped more harshly than she had intended. "Turn the car around…" she sat the seat up and wrapped her purse strap around her in a clear defensive move and clutched her new shoes as though she were about to bolt out of the car, which she was.

"Okay, okay… calm down." In fairness to him she had taken the drugs herself without telling him, for just this reason. She took it to make the night bearable, not so he could get some. He suspected she had taken something or been given something at the concert, but wasn't sure what or when. He drove her to her apartment and they kissed for a few minutes before he made his move, which caused her to pull away and she wacked his knee hard with her high heel. "Ouch, damn! What the hell?"

"I'm fifteen you ass hat! What the fuck are you thinking touching me there? My dad's a cop; I'd get my ass outta here if I were you."

"YOU'RE FIFTEEN? You told me that you were seventeen and emaciated! You said your parents were dead."

"The word is emancipated you tool and my real parents are dead. You still shouldn't manhandle the merchandise… You break it, you buy it mister," she thought it was a clever reference to saving herself for someone special that didn't involve calling herself a cow or mention bovine lactation but it was clearly wasted on this Neanderthal by his look of utter bewilderment on his face.

She jumped out of the car and stormed off, he screamed after her, "ASTOR! Come back! Wait! ASTOR! You fucking tease!" she flipped him off over her shoulder with ease and grace that would make her Aunt Deb proud. He answered her with squealing tires as she pound her bare feet across the parking lot past yet another fleet of vehicles, matching SUVs. The police, FBI, FDLE, and the news crews had been here 24/7. She didn't think anything about the six men standing at the back of one of the vehicles which had the back hatch open; it looked like they were getting their camera gear or something out.

Two of the men looked angry, two had their mouths agape and the other two were snickering to each other, obviously having overheard the exchange. "…well he shouldn't have tried to paw my junk! The story has been done by the way, the Báthory thing is so yesterday…" she snapped at the laughing two as she passed them just as one of the others grabbed her from behind, arm around her neck choking her. He was so strong he pulled her off her feet and she half dangled to the ground. She dropped the shoes out of reflex to grab at the arm around her neck; she immediately regretted the loss of her only weapons. She saw the flashbulbs going off and her last thought as she passed out was that if they were cops they were so getting sued, sleeper holds were illegal for the police to use in Florida.

"What the hell!" one of the two men that had been laughing a moment ago exclaimed. "She's just a kid…" as one of the others grabbed her feet and they tossed her in the rear of the vehicle and zip tied her hands and feet and gagged her mouth.

"He said her name is Astor, she's on the list. You two take her back; we'll check the place out for the others. You," he pointed at the other laughing man, "leave the cars running and keep a look out. We'll be back in a minute… We'll all meet up later as planned."

* * *

><p>According to the banners on the mission of the Florida Department of Law Enforcements was to 'promote public safety and strengthen domestic security by providing services in partnership with local, state, and federal criminal justice agencies to prevent, investigate, and solve crimes while protecting Florida's citizens and visitors.' Tony De Marco had been with FDLE for years and he understood that the real role of the FDLE was as a back burner. The local law enforcement saw him as an outsider and the Feds saw him as a townie. He only really won with the politicians, the reporters, and the families. Politicians loved him because he allowed them to look tough on crime when things weren't bad enough to pester the FBI. The reporters loved him for being more open than the locals or the Feds, FDLE believed strongly in local support and assistance from the civilians which involved more information released to the press. Unlike what you see on TV, any homicides older than four days are considered cold cases. So, usually by the time he came to talk to the families, a week later usually, the family always had a since that the police had moved on, mainly because they had.<p>

De Marco was able to follow the third SUV into an industrial area in Hialeah and had to hang way back as it wound through the deserted streets. He thought he had lost them but he sped down the road just in time to see and roll down door closing. Turning down a side alleyway he pulled his car up next to a vent style window that was too high up to climb in, but was propped open. He stood on the hood of his car but still couldn't see in. He reached for his cell phone and used the video camera and flip screen as a periscope, but also started recording. He saw two men get out and walk around to the rear door and open it. He saw them unceremoniously pull a woman's body out a drop it to the ground, he couldn't tell if she was dead or unconscious but she was definitely one or the other and they had her arms and legs bound and he could see the silver duct tape over her mouth.

He only filmed for another moment, trying to get good steady video of the faces and then he jumped down and quietly called Lt. Morgan. It was difficult to wait, but it was a lesson he had learned the hard way. Better to wait in cases like this for not only more units, but for SWAT. These guys had obviously showed a propensity for causing loss of life, as well as massive property damage. Luckily SWAT and air units had already been mobilized. It appeared to him that they were waiting for something, or someone. Either way it bought him time.

* * *

><p>Captain María LaGuerta had been to Dexter's apartment many times over the years, for both business and pleasure; not that kind… as well as for good reasons and bad reasons. The saddest was by far was right after his wife was murdered. She had gone by to check on him in the middle of the night and he hadn't answered the door, but it was unlocked. He was sitting on the edge of his sister's bed in the dark; she had lived there for awhile, covered in his wife's blood. People had always claimed that Dexter was detached and had always creeped some people out. She wasn't one of them; she was actually quite attracted to him at one point.<p>

That day she saw him two ways she had never seen him before or since. The look on his face was of someone who was completely detached from reality. It was as if he had been lobotomized. He had this blank expression on his face, his mouth slightly open and even drooling slightly. He just sat there, covered in blood, staring. Nothing she did fazed him. Finally she took him by the hand and pulled; he rose and followed her to the bathroom. He let her undress him and she got him into the shower and he complied. She instructed him on how or what to wash and he did, otherwise he just stood there. She dried him off and shaved him and put him in sweat pants and an old brown shirt. He then sat back in the same spot the same way.

She went to the kitchen and got him a banana and a glass of water. She asked him to eat and he did, she handed him two pills and the glass of water and told him to take them and he did. He did it without looking at them or asking what they were. She explained that they were valiums and that they would help him sleep.

They both sat on the bed for a very long time and she was selfishly thinking about herself at that point, trying to figure out logistically how to plan for work. It was almost five AM and she had already decided to stay and call late the next day when he turned his head very slowly in a way that was very creepy, almost like a zombie and spoke.

"It was real wasn't it?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

She nodded, "Yes Dexter, it was real…" she said sadly.

Then it was as if a torrent of emotions were unleashed. He started grinding his teeth so hard she thought they might break and he was clenching his fists so tight that his hands turned white. His face was beet red and veins were sticking out everywhere. He seriously looked like he wanted to rip someone apart with his hands and it didn't look like he really cared who it was. His blood pressure must have been through the roof and she remembered thinking that he might have a stroke. She grabbed a pillow and told him to scream into it, "trust me, it works…" He screamed so loud and for so long she thought he would pass out. When he finished he started crying, the wailing kind of crying. She made him lay down and he did, on his side clutching his pillow and she curled up behind him and held him until they fell asleep.

Sometime later she felt a tug on her arm and awoke to Debra Morgan pulling on her arm and she had her finger pressed to her lips in a shushing motion. It took Maria a minute to realize where she was and she thought the same thing that he had said, 'It was real…' Rita was dead. She slowly extricated herself from Dexter's clutching arms and slipped silently out of the room.

Deb had an odd look on her face that LaGuerta couldn't really size up. "I got here at three AM and he was just sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, just staring. I got the blood off of him," she cross her arms as if cold. "He finally started crying, poor thing…"

"Wait, he cried?"

"Well, yes Deb. Who wouldn't?"

"He has never cried, not once… ever… He was impaled on a fence post once and he didn't even shed a tear…"

"Well everyone has their limits… I didn't want to leave him alone. Does he own a gun?"

Debs long neck recoiled in shock, "Yeah, he has my dad's rifles and service weapon… I'll look for them. Thanks Maria, for everything…"

"It's nothing really. Of all people she deserved that least. Things like that make me feel like my whole life has been a waste. I gave him some valium to help him sleep. Let me know if you need me to come by or to baby sit."

"Thanks really, goodnight Maria."

Since then LaGuerta couldn't even drive by this neighborhood without thinking about that, she was hoping this night didn't replace that one in the way of tragedies. She heard everything going to hell on the scanner and the news vans were already there when she pulled up, or maybe they had a permanent base camp set up from the whole Báthory thing, those vultures definitely knew the address.

She raced past the crime scene tape and secretly relished in the fact that the officers guarding the scene didn't have to look twice to see who she was or that she belonged there. "Where's Morgan!" she shouted over the commotion. Detective Anderson pointed around the side of the building, near the water. "Give me the sixty second run down on what went down here detective." When he was finished she proceeded toward the edge of the building passing Vince and Louis as she went, they were laughing at some joke, "Gentlemen, this is the second time tragedy has struck this family. Please act like it!" she snapped as she stormed by.

She found Morgan around the side of the building with her forehead pressed against the wall crying. "Debra! Snap out of it," she snapped pulling her away from the wall. "You have a task force to run and you need to address the press."

"Astor was in one of those cars you heartless witch!" she shrieked.

"You don't know that, no one does. What you know is that a fifteen year old snuck out of the house and that shoes were found in a parking lot. Tighten up. You need to direct this and talk to the press, get her picture out there. Give the jackals something to do."

"PR… you're worried about PR?"

"No, I'm worried about that girl. This is Maria talking to you right now, the woman that washed Rita's blood off of your brother. Get people out to the accident scenes, we need to detail those scenes thoroughly and get everything reopened for rush hour. Get Astor's picture out to the press and to patrol units so they can start looking for her. Don't tell the press more than they need to know, multiple armed intruders broke into the home of a Metro Homicide detective and fled the scene, possibly with the girl. Don't mention that you're related to her and don't give them Dexter's name. Got it? Just keep it fast and simple, get them to focus on Astor. Keep them on the scene here away from the accident scenes."

She nodded as her phone rang and she coughed to try to clear her voice, "Morgan…" she listened into the phone for a minute and laughed, which was the last thing Maria expected."We'll send the air units and SWAT right over. Anderson will join you, but you have the lead… you have whatever support you need." She hung up and without explaining she ran around the corner, "Anderson! De Marco followed a third SUV to a warehouse, go help him with the raid. He confirmed that they had a woman tied up in the car. I'll have SWAT there soon." She gave him the address.

Maria smiled too, "I told you so… Where is your brother?"

"He and Agent Eye… uh… Connor was going to check out the old Zoo on Key Biscayne. We think that Báthory is keeping the animals somewhere, which the rest of the blood comes from. I tried calling them, but I can't get through. Must not be a tower out there?"

"I'll go get him; he should hear this from someone he knows… Cody is okay?"

She nodded, "His feet are cut up pretty bad, but he'll live. He is at the hospital with Jamie Batista…"

"Okay, get everything here moving. Stick to the story with the press; don't tell them about De Marco…"

"Okay, will do."


	35. Chapter 35: Odds and Ends

*****Thanks for the review viperfang164. I finished this chapter for you; I was going to write other things today. If you didn't see my 1 chapter Dexter story Rude Awakenings, check it out. I think it might be my best work ever, I completely nailed it. You're right, I was about to give up on this story. 35 chapters and only 11 reviews make me wonder if it's worth finishing at all, but the fact that you never usually review means so much more. Thanks again…**

Chapter 35

Odds and Ends

Wednesday Early AM October 31th 2012

The city streets

SWAT was actually able to arrive before the men De Marco was watching decided to bolt. The building was surrounded and a sniper set up in the same window the De Marco had filmed the men through. The sniper was careful to wedge into the very corner of the window to minimize his profile. As De Marco had expected when SWAT rolled up the doors and stormed in one of the men reached for the girl and the other ran for the car. The sniper dropped the man reaching for the girl and the SWAT commander drop the other; both were shots to the legs and under the orders of De Marco only those two officers were to fire unless fired upon. It was important to avoid the appearance of an execution against men who had attacked the home of an officer and may be responsible for the deaths of other law enforcement officers or civilians during the various chases.

Astor was more or less unharmed but was in a viciously ill mood. Once they cut her free she stomped in the front teeth of her captors before anyone could stop her, which was impressive considering she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Joey Quinn was pulled from the mangled remains of his car and was initially thought to be dead, but had faint vitals. Manzon rode with him in the ambulance and was horrified when they asked if he was an organ donor. The men, in the SUV they were chasing, were hit by the faster train and there weren't a whole lot of sold remains to collect, nor clues. The Batista barbeque resulted in no arrests either.

Between the two accident scenes and scores injured civilians and several fatalities including the driver of the semi tanker, the media was in a complete and total frenzy and now Debra Morgan understood why LaGuerta went herself to find Dexter; it was to avoid the press. She deflected the attacks using Astor and the fact that the assailants were willing to break into the home of a Metro Homicide Detective to kill or kidnap his entire family, which illustrated that they were willing to go to and length to achieve their objective.

It wasn't long of course before Dexter's name got out and someone asked if they were blood related, "No, no blood relation." Someone else caught on and asked if they were married, "No, we aren't married either, any _other_ questions?" She figured this would stall them for a while especially since Dexter wasn't even really on the books yet, they would have difficulty locating information on him.

She told them that she had to go and check on the status of the subjects that had been apprehended and write reports. Luckily Chief Mathews arrived before the news of Astor's recovery had been confirmed and she intuitively spun that into some sympathy from him.

The Chief was an old school war horse that didn't take kindly to thugs coming into the home of one of his boys and snatching children, "Serves those bastards right. Are you still with Quinn?"

"No, sir" she said as her phone rang. "Morgan! ….Outstanding work Agent De Marco, see you at the ER. Is she there… put her on a second… Hey, Astor shut your mouth until I get there. You don't have to answer any questions without a parent there. See you at the hospital."

"It was Astor," she said excitedly. "De Marco took the two suspects alive, but they are wounded."

"Well get to the hospital and check on Quinn and your niece and nephew. Get someone competent to question them the suspects. If you have a report in my hands by seven AM, I will try to do some damage control."

That was the last thing she expected, "Sir, thank you sir. Just as a warning the jackals asked if Dex and I were related by blood, or married and I told them no. I also doubt this has anything to do with the Báthory killer."

"Way to go Lieutenant, you're learning,"

"Just what you taught me sir, 'if they ask you if you know what time it is the answer is: Yes. Make the bastards ask you for the time." He laughed and slapped her on the shoulder and he spun on his heel and left.

The fallout was large enough for IA to take over the secondary crime scenes, which was a blessing and a curse. A curse in that she was going to IA up her ass twenty-four seven, but a blessing because she got her team back.

Debra detoured over to the hospital for an hour or two and left Vince and Louis to finish up at Dexter's apartment. "Damn Cody, you're lucky… it looked worse…" she clutched his hand as the Doctor, Dr. Sara Reynolds, stitched him up.

"Ma'am, this really is quite serious. Where are his parents?"

Before Deb could answer Cody snapped, "Dead. They are both dead. Our adopted father is raising three of us and paying for a live in caregiver," he nodded to Jamie who was sitting on the floor in the corner with a sleeping Harrison on her lap. "He was adopted himself, this is his adopted sister. He knows what we are going through better than anyone else ever could, so don't even come at me with your 'child and family services' sly ass canned questions. Stick to what you know and stitch my feet and stay the hell out of other people's business. I need to get home; I have an Algebra exam tomorrow."

The Doctor turned red in the face and she started to object before Deb snatched her by the arm and drug her from the room and down the hall, ignoring her objections the whole way. "Look, their father, my brother is missing. Armed men broke into the house to kidnap or kill them all. He is probably dead in a ditch somewhere. We just rescued his daughter and she is on her way here now. Now unless you want to be the one to tell him his parent is dead for the third time you better stitch him up so I can get them the hell out of here. Do not even think about dicking around with these kids, I am the closest thing to a mother they have and I will defend them like it." The woman started to say something but the resolute look on Debs face changed her mind.

The doctor was finishing with Cody when they brought Astor in. A patrolman was escorting her and actually made Deb give him her ID before releasing her and leaving, "Sorry Lieutenant. Detective Anderson ordered me to physically see your laminated ID."

Deb shook her head, "No, that was smart. Thanks, I appreciate it."

Astor looked remarkably calm until he walked away at which point she totally lost control, she started pacing and talking in a shrieking voice at a mile a minute as well as crying and the sniveling. Debs linguistic skills of the 'teenage girl' dialect were a tad rusty and she made out very little of it. She was barefoot and wearing a large police windbreaker and jeans. Deb knew some of it was shock, but the cop in her took over, she grabbed Astor and felt her head. She was burning up and her pupils were wide open.

"Did they give you anything?"

"No, I just got here…"

"No Astor, the idiots that grabbed you?"

"Uh… I don't know. I was knocked out."

The Doctor came out and Deb nodded to Astor, "Doctor this is my Niece Astor. We just got her back from those creeps. Do you think you can take a quick look?"

The Doctor looked at her knowingly, "Sure. Miss if you can step in that room for a moment…" Deb started to follow and this time the Doctor grabbed her arm, "Usually they are more open if family members aren't present, but of course I can't prevent you…"  
>"No, you're right. That's fine. I think they gave her something, Ecstasy probably. Look I'm sorry about before…"<p>

The Doctor gave her best flippant shrug, "Whatever. You know what we see every day. It's my job to ask."

Deb stuck her head in the door, "You okay Astor, or you want me to come in?"

"If she's going where I think she's going, then I'd rather not put on a show…"

"Okay, I'll wait here."

It didn't take long; the Doctor said she was 'still intact' which actually took Deb a moment to grasp what she meant and that she drew blood for a tox screen, but she could go for now.

"Come on, let's collect Cody and roll…"

"Oh, he's here? Is he in the waiting room?"

Deb didn't realize that she didn't know he was hurt. "O M G, Cody!" she ran over and hugged him.

He looked at her oddly after the hug, "Are you wearing body armor?" to which she shot him a 'shut up' look. He shook his head, "Forget I asked, I think I'd rather not know. Here you go loser, don't say I never gave you anything…" he handed her a pair of his sneakers that he brought with him, knowing she had lost hers. His feet were too swollen and heavily bandaged to fit.

Deb stared at them hugging and holding hands and they looked so much like her and Dex at that age. Kids grow up so fast. Jamie was wake and collecting Harrison. "Here Jamie here's a key to my place. They all have spare clothes there. I'll go by Dex's and grab some things and see if he's turned up yet. Angel's outside and is going to make sure it's okay there. Don't take them back home until I tell you that it's safe…"

"Sure thing Deb, see you soon…"

They exited the building to find Agent Demarco, Angel Batista and Mike Anderson catching up in the patient loading area. "Oh, Angel… on the Josef BLT case the guy at the Pawn Shop was cooperative. He said that Josef came in and pawned a gold coin and it matched a request that they had posted from a buyer. Someone was looking to pay 10% more than the cost of the coin for it. The guy gave him something extra to drop dime on Josef. I got the number the guy used to dial the buyer and a description of the coin."

"Was it a rare coin or something Mike?" Angel asked.

"Yes and no. It was a..." he looked at his notes, "...Bahar Azadi Coin. It's a gold coin from Iran which is blacklisted in the US. So, it's rare here but not everywhere. We banned it after 9/11 due to its use in money laundering and illicit trade. The good part is that he was only looking for coins from '08."

"So, the guy pawns the coin, pawn broker dials the number, phone guy buys the coin and the info on the seller, goes to Josef and tortures him to get him to spill the beans. So, we are thinking a terrorism beef here? What nationality was Josef?"

Deb spoke up, "Russian. His INTERPOL sheet came through right before I left the office. It was mostly clean. A couple of minor things like simple possession, trespassing, etc. They were all from when he was a teenager in the eighties."

"So, you thinking that we should dial the number claiming to be pawn brokers?" asked Angel.

Mike smiled and nodded, "That's exactly what I was thinking."


	36. Chapter 36: Juxtaposition

Chapter 36

Juxtaposition

Wednesday early AM October 31th 2012

Dexter's condo 10b

Debra Morgan sat in the darkness of Dexter's apartment, her tears mixed with her sweat. She had arrived here several hours ago and used her key to get in. The air was stifling but she refused to open the windows or turn on the air conditioning. Somehow it seemed disrespectful to do so, as if her own comfort somehow diminished what her brother might be going through.

His computer was password protected, but she spent some time trying to guess it even though she knew if it was one of his normal passwords she never would. He was paranoid about such things and it would only be something simple if he wanted it to be cracked.

"Damn it Dexter, what the Hell is going on?" she fumed. She drained the last sip of the now room temperature beer, then sat back on the sofa and her eyes fluttered shut.

Deb had a dream that she was at Dexter's wake. She was in a large room standing in front of the casket, looking down on her brother. His face had been placed in a wry, almost knowing smile. It was a smile he so often had in life, as though he always knew something the rest of the world didn't. For most of her life she hadn't known what that grin was for either, but she did now. She noticed for the first time that Dexter as a ten year old child was standing next to her holding her hand. Looking to her right, her father Harry was holding her other hand. Looking around she saw that they alone were there to grieve for him.

"Here Aunt Debra," she realized the young Dexter was really an older Harrison, Dexter's biological son. He put something in her hand, two silver coins, "for the boatman."

"But Dexter doesn't believe in the afterlife," she said, as she looked at the two silver coins they turned to gold.

"But it believes in him and that's good enough," her father said in a soothing voice. She had forgotten how soothing her father's voice was; he took the two coins from her and placed them on Dexter's eyes. Harry reached up and slowly closed the casket, she sobbed as Dexter's face disappeared from view. She realized she was suddenly alone, Harry and Harrison were gone. As she stared at the coffin she heard a light scratching noise from the inside, barely audible. My God he was alive! She jerked the coffin open only to find it now empty. She lowered it again, and the scratching resumed… the sound of fingernails clawing at metal made her snap awake.

Her neck was sore, she had drifted off to sleep sitting up, head hanging to one side. She heard a scratching sound again; it was coming from the door. Someone was outside the door; she reached for her holster that was on the coffee table just as the door opened. A small hooded figure slipped inside, shutting the door behind them. She saw the intruder look out the window, then pull the hood down; a blond ponytail shimmered in the light from the windows. It was a woman. She let the blinds down and Deb took aim with her Glock. The intruder let out a slight chuckle, more of a sad wry laugh really. Deb slowly pulled the hammer back, _CLICK_. The figure froze in place, obviously recognizing the sound. 'She's running through scenarios, typical perp. Fight or flight? They almost always run, unless cornered like this person' thought Deb, 'I can hear her breathing heavy, or is that my breathing?'

"Hello Deb," the female voice cracked as though she hadn't spoken to another soul in a decade.

She knew it wasn't Jamie Batista or Astor, but other than that she was drawing a blank. "Hands up bitch," Deb said in a cool firm tone. The woman complied. Deb stood up and turned on the lamp; it was bright and blinded her for a moment.

The intruder was a slim blond, 5'8 or so. She was wearing black spandex bottoms, a thin green hooded shirt, sneakers, and black gloves. Besides the gloves, she could be on the way to the gym.

"Turn around slowly…" she turned in a smooth circle, almost in a mocking way in that Deb half expected her to curtsey.

She saw the flat profile as the woman spun and was stunned; it was that hussy of a 'tenant' from Rita's house…What was her silly ass name again? "LUMEN? Fuck me sideways! What the fuck are you doing here where is Dexter?"

"Lt Debra Morgan, as elegant and demure as always," Lumen Pierce said sarcastically. "I have no idea where he is. I lost my phone today. Last I saw of him he got a call around midnight from some hot Asian woman that he picked up at a hotel, something about a break in the Báthory case…"

"That would be FBI Special Agent Eyelashes…Yeah that's the last I heard from him too… Wait a second! You're the mystery woman? You're the Hot Pretzel Girl? _Fuck_! I thought the Báthory killer was the mystery women, trying to get close to him…"

Lumen could swear that Deb sounded _extremely_ jealous. "Hot Pretzel Girl…? I haven't the foggiest... Can I put my hands down now?" Deb was still pointing the gun at her.

"Oh, yeah… I guess. You're the one that sent him the picture today?"

"Sent him the picture…?" it took Lumen a minute for it to register. "Oh my God, _he showed you? _That is so… sick. That is the most disturbing, the vilest…" Lumen looked around and ran to the sink feeling like she would vomit. So, he had taking one of the most special moments of her life and she hoped his as well, which had been exploited by some creep and Dexter had shown it to his sister? It was one of the most perverse things she had ever heard.

"No, he didn't show me fucktard. I was holding his phone when you sent it."

"Oh…" the wave of nausea ebbed."God, the way you were acting I thought you had some kind of perverse 'Flowers in the Attic' stuff going on…" she said with her head still over the sink.

Deb was visibility rocked by this, but Lumen wasn't looking at her, "Well first of all he isn't my actual brother, he was adopted." She steered the conversation back to the present, "Why are you breaking in here? Or are you going to lie and say you're his tenant again? What is he, subletting the place now?"

"Because I didn't have my key on me, he has no issues with my being here."

"Uh huh, _**you**_ have a key? Yeah right. Rita never even had a key to his apartment, neither did I until I moved in here after he was married. How is it that you can pick locks?"

"I am a Surety Agent."

"_You_ are a bounty hunter?" she scoffed.

Lumen let out an irritated sigh, "You know it's illegal for me to call myself that in Florida, you're testing me _Detective_. Listen… put some coffee on while I grab a shower. That's why I'm here. I'll be out in a second."

"It's _Lieutenant_ now."

"Whatever…" she said flippantly as she kicked her shoes off in the kitchen.

Deb wasn't pointing her weapon at her anymore, but at the ground, although she did still have both hands on it and the safety was still off. "So… you aren't going to ask what happened here? Police tape, blood and bullet holes everywhere…"

"I heard you on the news…"

"Cody killed a man here tonight. Astor was kidnapped. You aren't concerned about that?"

"Of course I am, although I've never even met Cody and I saw the Amber Alert for Astor, who hated me until this week. But, yes I'm concerned. That's why I'm here."

"I thought you were here for a shower?" Deb retorted waspishly.

"Okay Will Scarlet, I am so over this shit… Let me put this in simple words you'll understand Debra. I am fucking the brains out of your _adopted_ brother, which is none of your God damn business. We are basically married for fucks sake." Debs head recoiled like a cobra ready to strike, "we are married in every way but paper and he asked if I wanted to do that yesterday. So, why don't you pull your fucking long giraffe neck from out of my ass, and start treating me like a human being, because FYI, _I am not going anywhere!_" she practically screamed. "If you keep this up the family barbeques are going to be _really_ awkward. You have despised me since we first met _for no reason!" _

The two women glared at each other for a long minute until Deb finally broke the Chinese standoff and put her gun away, "Look, the first time we met, you were both lying through your teeth the whole time, people lie to me all day long so don't try to tell me otherwise. Then this time I catch you breaking into his place after someone kidnapped his kids. I'm a cop for fucks sake, cut me some slack too! Christ on a fucking cross." She sighed nervously, "You want some coffee?"

Lumen smirked, "I'd love some…"

Deb poured the coffee as Lumen turned on the AC. Standing on her tip toes, looking through the vents Lumen could see Dexter's rosewood box hidden in the unit, it contained his blood slides, one for each of his kills… some of which were their kills. Lumen almost called them victims, but they were far from it. You see, she and Dexter both hunted the Most Dangerous Game: man. Dexter was a serial killer of other serial killers. Lumen was more of an equal opportunity hunter. She didn't limit herself to murders, but included rapists, pedophiles, and those that inflicted their power and wills upon others. She also didn't always kill like Dexter, she often preferred to expose their crimes to the world and watch their world crash down around them.

"Has this place been dusted already?"

"Yeah, not that there was much to find, you weren't the only one wearing gloves."

Lumen pulled off her gloves and sat them on the AC to dry. She took off her sweat shirt and hung it on a chair. "What the fuck is that?" Dec demanded pointing at the web gear Lumen was wearing under her shirt.

"A tac harness…"

"Thanks, I know what a tac harness is… Why do you have one?"

Lumen reached up and pulled down a Velcro flap revealing her badge and laminat, "I told you already. I am a Surety Agent."

Deb's eyes narrowed looking at it, "Fuck, you're serious…" she said as Lumen stripped off the harness too and hung it on a chair.

"I'll be back in a minute," Lumen said over her shoulder as she left to shower. She was thankful that she had pulled over to change clothes and dump a couple of gallons of water over herself. She had tried to go back to her condo but saw all the police cars and thought better of walking through the lobby looking like she had just come back from swimming in the everglades. She had parked her in the garage and taken her boat across the bay and docked next to his apartment.

Debra Morgan never could stop being a cop, thinking like a cop, talking like a cop, and acting like a cop. As she sat on Dexter's kitchen stool she glanced at Lumens shoes and stared at the bottom of one that was laying sideways. The tread on the bottom looked familiar. She picked up the shoes to look at it and got some kind of slime on her hands. "Ew, gross!" she dropped the shoe unceremoniously. She washed her hands and made herself leave the kitchen, which just made her nosiness worse when she saw the tactical harness on the back of the chair. "Fuck it," she swore. She looked at the badge and laminated ID, "Dora Jones? What the fuck?" She pulled the gun out to check the serial number and saw the barrel was covered in slime, "Was that bitch a contestant on Double Dare?" She took pictures with her phone of the serial numbers, her ID, and the bottom of her shoes.

Lumen showered longer than she usually did, which was truly saying something. By the time she got out of the shower she had to step into the bedroom to breathe and cool off. She dug through his dresser, looking for boxers, an under shirt and socks. She found the shirts in his top drawer and got one out and under it she saw a photo of herself. She recognized it immediately; it was from her first day on Fiji, before she became depressed. That was from after she left Dexter, she picked it up thinking that he had found it online somehow, and then she saw her phone that she had forgotten so long ago and understood. He had kept it, probably waiting for her to call it.

She was still looking at the picture and holding the phone when Deb opened the door; Lumen instinctively whirled toward Deb and tried to cover her chest with the picture and her groin with the phone. "Oh, sorry... Figured you'd be dressed by now," Deb was a Detective and a damn good one in fact. "Looks like you found your phone. You do know that most people turn away from people when they are caught naked? What are the scars from?"

"Do you mind turning around? Thanks…" Lumen could smell the coffee in her hand and realized the purpose behind her entry; it was to bring her a cup.

"So, how did you get the scars?" she tried to sound casual but couldn't even fool herself into thinking that.

"I heard you the first time; I was just giving you a chance to not be rude." Lumen cursed herself and gave her well practiced lie, "I was sitting on a balcony railing and fell backward through the conservatory ceiling…"

"_The_ conservatory…?" Deb laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, it's sort of like a green house and a Florida room combined…"

"I know what it is. Did you kill Mr. Body there with the butcher knife? Wait, you mean as in _your_ conservatory?"

Just for a second there was a flash to Lumen's eyes and a slightly sly grin as Deb said 'with the butcher knife'. Then Lumen's eyes narrowed. "Not mine my parents and you're so clever, no one else has ever made that comparison and before you ask, yes they are rich."

Lumen sighed slightly and changed the subject, "So, how long were you able to hold out from digging through my stuff?" she asked as she walked by with her old phone, having put on boxer shorts and thin under shirt.

Lumen didn't see Deb blush behind her, but the silence was deafening. "It's okay; I left it there knowing you would dig for through it. You can't help it. It's your nature." Lumen walked past the desk and opened the sliding glass door next to the AC unit where Dexter hides his slides. She opened the curtains and then the door. She picked up an olive green backpack she had deposited there. She put it on the desk and started digging through it, "I'll never leave anything near you unattended that I didn't expect to be molested. Did you run my sheet yet?"

Deb glowered at the backpack and the implication that there were secrets inside as she handed Lumen a cup coffee befitting a barista, which still surprised Lumen a little. She figured it would taste like turpentine, you see Deb wasn't exactly Suzie Homemaker, but all those stakeouts were apparently good for something. Deb snapped, "No, I haven't run it yet. So, you knew I was in here?"

"No. I just didn't know what I would find and didn't want to be encumbered."

Lumen walked to Dexter's room and looked in the closet for something that would remotely fit her and saw her first actual kit suit hanging in the very back right before his suits. She slipped into it as Deb halfway watched. "Your shoes are ruined; they have gak all over them. What size are you?"

"Eight. Gak?"

Deb laughed, "Yeah, the slime on that old kid's game show Double Dare. I'm an eight too. We should have bonded over shoes… I have some sneakers in there; you're welcome to them…"

Lumen raised an eyebrow as she put them on, Deb explained pointing at the treadmill, "I like to run sometimes when I baby sit."

"Thanks… Maybe we should run sometime, I'm kind of overboard with it though…"

Deb smiled, "Yeah, me too…"

"Where did the slime come from?"

"The swamp," Lumen said curtly.

Lumen walked out of the bedroom and sat down on the business side of his desk, which was always the position of power. She knew the real police interrogation was about to start, the coffee and the shoes were to loosen her up. Deb sat down across from her as Lumen opened his Lap top. "Don't bother its password protected, and we tried the normal stuff already." Lumen ignored her and plugged in a USB cord for her phone to charge the long dead battery. "Oh…" Deb mumbled.

"You thought there might be something on here that would help?" she opened the lap top and she started trying passwords, skipping to things Deb wouldn't have guessed: LUMEN, the screen flashed incorrect password. LUMEN_PIERCE, the screen flashed incorrect password again.

"Maybe… I don't know. I am grasping at straws here. So, what the fuck are you really doing here?"

"Looking for Dexter, he's in trouble, or he's going to be…" She tried THE_CODE incorrect, HARRYS_CODE, nope not it either.

She closed the computer and pushed it to the side for a moment. She saw a large candle on the self beside her, the book self she loved so much, which had been constructed around the W shaped support beams in the middle of the room. She had never thought to ask him if he had made it himself, now she might never know. She put it on the desk between them, where the computer had been and pulled on an ancient Zippo from her bag and lit the candle. She sat the lighter face up on the desk with a MACV SOG logo showing. It was a trophy from her second solo victim and yes she was flaunting her prize in front of one of Miami's finest... but that's another story.

"It doesn't explain why you showed up out of the blue after two _fucking years_, breaking into his place, wearing 'You Must Acquit gloves' and Rosie the Riveter commando garb. I mean really, a long sleeved sweatshirt and gloves in FUCKIN Miami?" She said this all very quickly and left her mouth hanging open, Lumen kept waiting for another paragraph to fall out of her gaping maw. She swore she could cramp a pumpkin in there and couldn't decide what she reminded her of more, Canadians on South Park or Wade Phillips during a Cowboys blow out.

"He never told you how we met," Lumen said as she looked down at the candle. Deb shook her head; Lumen thought snidely, 'it was a rhetorical question sweetheart, are you sure you're a detective?' Then she realized that Debra Morgan had almost caught them both and knew she must respect Deb as an adversary. "Let's just say he earned my body and my soul, I would throw myself face first into a volcano if he asked me to. I really mean that."

She cocked her head and pulled it back a little, she is so long and slender that it reminded Lumen of a cobra getting ready to strike. Then the look in Deb's eyes and the expression on her face suddenly softened and her eyes twinkled in admiration. "Just my luck, I am related to the greatest man ever. All the good ones are already at the family barbeques. Maybe I should throw myself off the volcano," they both forced fake laughs.

"I didn't leave because I wanted to; I left because I had to. We both had serious issues we were dealing with and we weren't ready for how intense things got. We both know everything about the other…" to which Deb scoffed. "_Everything_…" Lumen reiterated.

Deb looked at the sly smile on her face and still wasn't sure if she _really_ knew, but knowing whether or not someone is a serial killer is a pretty difficult topic to vet.

Lumen continued, "What do you know about the people that broke in here?"

Deb ground her teeth, weighing the situation. "Not much. They appear to be a well financed hit team or something. They were all dressed the same and drove fleet vehicles rented to a dummy corporation, black Yukon's…"

Lumen thought for a minute, "Well if…" Lumen's head snapped up "Wait! Yukon's are GMC's right?"

Deb failed to see the relevance, "yeah."

"Shit! I thought that a guy was following me yesterday when I was running; I followed him past my place to a Black GMC SUV," Lumen thought out loud.

Deb gawked, "were you at home tonight after midnight?"

"No…"

"Good thing, since it sounds like they know where you live. It sounds like they were looking to raid your place too… Maybe they were sloppy or… Shit, those guys could still be waiting at your place! Lucky you weren't home… We should get over there and check it out. Let me fucking piss and we'll go… damn coffee…"

Lumen thought about the police cars and vans that she saw out front, she had thought they were there about the missing guard, but… "_Oh fuck_!" She grabbed her charging phone then saw it had no service, it was disconnected. She looked around frantically, "Where is his home phone?"

"He turned it off…"

_"Give me your phone!"_ she shrieked. Deb looked at her like she was crazy, "I wasn't there, but someone else was!" Deb handed over her cell and Lumen dialed it with shaky hands "Tom if your there pick up! Tom…!" She hung up and sent a text to his cell before dialing, _pick up, it's Lu…_ She then dialed his cell with no luck.

"Okay, sixty seconds and I'll have us there in a flash…" she darted in the next room to pee and out of instinct Lumen grabbed the laptop and stuffed it in her bag and out of instinct she ripped the grill of the AC unit off and carefully took the cherry wood box out and gently placed it in her bag. She thought about his knives and then remembered that he had never returned home to put them up. She grabbed the web gear and gloves but left the shoes; they were gross. She left without putting the grill back and left the door open. As she left she couldn't overcome the feeling that she was being watched. She placed the bag in her boat and undid the mooring lines and pushed off.

Deb came out of the bathroom and saw the AC grill off, "Hey, why'd you…" and then saw the door open."Fuck!" She ran out the door and down the stairs, following in Cody's bloody footprints, and turned toward the parking lot when she heard the boat start behind her. She ran for it and considered jumping for it as Lumen's boat pulled away. Deb screamed after her, "Reload your gun, it got wet!" Lumen either didn't hear her or ignored her.

Deb saw the name of the boat, _the Piercing Light _and 13a for the slip but couldn't make out the boat yard. She saw her blonde hair in the breaking dawn and saw the number 13 again and something clicked. "Thirteen… Oh, fuck me Dex! She's 13?" She mumbled aloud to herself, "She didn't have furniture or a place to stay, the scars, shoe prints, the way she abruptly left, the way they acted like a couple but said they weren't… They were _partners_… Jesus, Dexter. You promised that you told me about all the people that… _**you **_killed…" she said catching on at the end. "You dick," she fumed.

Then she thought about the damaged disc, no thirteenth lock of hair that would've given them Lumen's DNA, and the Dan Mendel murder scene and how he must have sabotaged everything. She recalled how she had told Dex about how much she wanted those assholes dead, but he never included her. Maybe that was Lumen's choice, either way it hurt.

Her mouth was agape still when her phone rang and before she could get her stunned mouth to form words a cold male voice said, "Lumen Pierce?"

Every hair on her body stood on end and she knew this wasn't whoever Lumen had called. This was the voice of a killer. "Yeah…?" she tried to say in a husker voice.

"Your friend Thomas and I have been having a long talk and we think you should join us for a little heart to heart…"

"Who is this…?"

"A friend of a friend… We are really anxious to meet you," he said in a voice that gave her shivers. "Center of the football field, old Beach High School at noon, we have people watching it now. Anything weird and we'll be serving your Iron Chef chum up as chum. Got it?"

"Where is Dexter?"

There was a cold laugh, "Oh…he's the entrée, but we are just starting the appetizer."

"Put them on…"

She heard the sound of duct tape being ripped off then a male voice screamed, "Dora don't do it, they'll kill us both!" That was followed by a buzzing sound and then the highest pitch scream she had ever heard and the line went dead.

"Jesus," she breathed as her shaking hands turned the phone off. She looked at the rising sun and wondered why they had given her so much time… She even had time to get her hair done…

**Lots of things coming together, so it took a long time to write and went through several revisions and was condensed to half the original size, but I think everything synced up well and makes sense. If something is jiggy let me know. Lots of time spent on this chapter, please let me know what you think, I'm totally pumped up about this chapter. :)**

**(BTW I know Lumen's hair was never taken, but Deb doesn't…) **


	37. Chapter 37: Oscuro Crucifijo

Chapter 37

Oscuro Crucifijo

October 30th 2011

Somewhere in the everglades

"Dexter," drip. "Dexter! Wake up," drip. "DEXTER," Harry shouted, drip.

I, the Dim witted and soon to be Dead Dexter grudgingly opened my eyes, "Stop yelling at me Harry, my head's killing me." I could see for miles; the sun was at the horizon, but was it rising or setting? I must be dead because I was floating in the air… arms widely out stretched, as if ascending to the heavens. But, why would my head hurt so much if I was dead? I didn't believe in a heaven and even if I did, I knew I wasn't going there. Neither was this Harry.

You see, the really Harry died more than twenty years ago. The real Harry might have squeaked into heaven, but this Harry was in my mind. An internal manifestation of what I called my dark passenger. If demons were real, Harry would be one. But the reality was that Harry was my anti-conscience, the evil in me wanting to come out and play. Sure it kept me from making mistakes and often had great insight, but it was completely self serving. If I got caught, so did 'Harry' and playtime would be over.

I could still recall Harry telling me to abandon Lumen to die when I first found her at Boyd Fowlers house; even insinuating that I should kill her rather than get caught. If I could feel shame, I would. It was still me that had considered it. "Leave her here Dex," he had said, "let her die! She saw you kill that man! This is a death penalty state; this is a one way ticket to Death Row." Lumen couldn't have been closer to death: injured, tortured, malnourished, dehydrated, and sleep deprived. I had never seen such a frail and vulnerable creature.

"Pathetic would have been the word I would've used. Can we please concentrate on the matters at hand?" berated Harry.

"You're just a sore loser. You can't stand it when you're wrong… You _never_ could," I hissed venomously.

"I didn't lose; you did Dex, as soon as she walked out on you. You completely let yourself go to seed. I've never seen you let yourself go that bad, not even when I died."

"You weren't there when Harry died and of course I took it hard when she left, she is the only person that has ever really known the real Dexter, _Harry's monster_, and _loved_ him. Everyone else just knows the façade, they have _never_ known the real me. Harry knew me but was terrified by his own creation, once he saw what he had unleashed upon the world."

Ignoring Harry and assessing my situation, I saw that I was shackled and crucified, only the crucifix wasn't in the ground, it was suspended. I wasn't strapped to a mast, but to a fan cage for an airboat. If I was flipped over it would look like I was on a giant round Barbeque grill. I was leaning slightly forward; it seemed to be hanging from the middle of the cage and not the top, so I must look like a ceiling fan from below. From a distance it must look like I was flying, arms out stretched. I tried to look over my shoulder, to see what was suspending the cage, and I felt a sharp pain shoot through my head. Drip… Something dripped from my nose. Blood was flowing freshly down my face again, it had almost dried. My actual tormentor had gone all out; I was wearing a crown of thorns.

"Jesus-Dexter, you're a mess."

"Very funny," I sneered.

"So, are you going to hang out here for awhile, or are you going to figure out how to get out of this?"

"Okay, enough with the jokes."

"Fine, have it your way. But, I was never terrified of you Dexter, you're my son and I couldn't be more proud of you and your sister."

"Harry saw me at work and killed himself two days later, the late great Det. Harry Morgan checked himself out because he was ashamed of this horrifying monstrosity that he created. I am nothing more than Frankenstein's Monster."

"Did I _really_? I would _never_ kill myself Dexter! I couldn't do that to you both. Why are you talking to me like I'm not here and why are we arguing the relevance of a girl that tried to forget all about you? It's not like you to pine over lost love, especially since you're a sociopath. You're not capable of love, longing, pain, regret, or remorse. But I am neither here nor there; you need to get out of this pickle."

Him insisting that he didn't kill himself resonated in my head. What if Harry didn't kill himself? What if he was forced or tricked into taking the pills, or if pills weren't the real cause of death. My subconscious was picking up on something I missed, but I digress…"No, _NO_! You don't get to blame me for this anymore," I yelled. "Yes, I have a personality disorder but I am not completely devoid of the capacity of emotion as Harry thought. The training Harry gave me kept me free and unnoticed, but I see now that it amplified my condition and prevented me from getting help with it. By creating a permanent false persona, it has forbidden anyone knowing who I truly am, so how could I ever care about them? They didn't know the actor, just the character I played… Harry taught me to focus my homicidal urges to meet his _own_ ends, when he should have been teaching me how to dissipate them. Besides, in case you missed it, Lumen came back. As to your first question, you're not Harry nor are you entirely me. I told you a year ago; I don't want or need your advice anymore!"

"Well said little brother!" I heard my deceased brother say as his phantom reached thru Harry from behind and pull him apart and I watched in horror as the imaginary Harry was atomized in front of me and I knew that I would never see him again.

"As for me, I loved the girl… very promising Dexter. She is far more interesting than Rita. A nudge here, a prod there, and I am sure she would've joined me…" he soothed.

I laughed coldly at him and I saw other figures materializing around him, "You wish. She is above butching old people and hookers."

"Really… what about the old security guard? Then there was the Indian guy that lit his wife on fire, she didn't die brother. What about Robert Brunner, Boyd Fowlers buddy, the guy living in the leper colony under Tuttle Bridge? Have you seen him lately, he did go missing the last time you checked him out? He was no killer. Then she almost killed that tattooed guy… She _would_ meet the code. Hell, who else has she randomly killed? She admitted to killing pedophiles and rapists… not killers."

I laughed out loud for a long time and I couldn't think of what was so funny, then I realized that I couldn't really see properly. Everything was hazy and indistinct. I felt my heart racing and I had a metallic taste in my mouth. I was on something besides the tranquilizer dart I had been shot with. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. I could feel my head was flushed and my heart was beating like a jack hammer.

"You were wrong about me…." I sighed.

"As you were wrong about her; hell even she thought she could quit. Maybe you were on to something with the whole support group thing!"

I heard the melodious laugh before I saw her, "I'll say he was!" Lila purred from behind him. She had been a lunatic arsonist that I met at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I had a brief affair with her before we ended on 'bad terms'; which in my world means Lila tried to burn me, literally, and was now buried in the Parisian countryside.

"Lila... I was just thinking about the devil…" I hissed, more for the lack of breath than anything else.

"Now Deeexteeer…" she purred."Is that all the thanks I get? I rid you of that nosey detective Doakes and almost that annoying, blathering idiot and her hellish brood to boot!"

Before I could respond I saw hands reach through Lila and separate her, as though curtains were being opened to let the daylight in. Lila was destroyed and Rita, my deceased wife was in front of me and a rarity occurred, I was at a loss for words.

"Oooooh Dexter!" Rita cooed as I watched light seemingly emanate from her. "You protected them from her: Astor and Cody. You saved them! You have to fight this Dexter! It's not just the drugs Dex. Please fight them. Your father was wrong about you, you're no monster. Deb and Lumen see that. I like her Dex, I could have _been _Lumen. I love you… fight for me!"

Before I could speak, an airy voice answered, "God, I should have slit her throat…" Trinity mused as he stepped forward and tore Rita a sunder before I could respond to her. Arthur Mitchell, the Trinity killer, had murdered Rita when he discovered that I was hunting him.

"NOOOooooo!" I bellowed in agony.

"Awweeee to hell with this," I recognized Brother Sam's voice immediately as he swung and metallic bat and dissipated Trinity. Sam had been a street smart reformed murderer who had found God and had tried to steer me to the light before meeting his own violent end.

I watched helplessly, a captive audience, as some bizarre battle for my soul happened in front of me.

"Hey Dex-man, I told you that you're better than all of this. A lumen is a measurement of light Dexter! All you need is a little bit of light to cut through the darkness. A candle doesn't look bright when you're holding it, but imagine how bright it is to those cowering in the darkness!"

"Jesus Dex," Brian huffed as he destroyed Sam with his own bat. "A lumen is also the hollow part of the vein that the blood flows through, but you know that… you think about it every time you say her name. Now I digress, is there anyone else you want to conjure from the past? Hmm… no…? Not a lot of friends, Dexter?"

"Not a lot of dead ones…" I retorted, hoping Doakes didn't show up. He had been a nosey detective that had haunted me in real life. The idea of an imaginary Doakes following me everywhere I went was enough to make me contemplate the benefits ritualistic suicide. Silence was my only answer, looking around Brian was no longer there either.

The sun was coming up, as it turns out. It was now fully above the skyline, filling the horizon with shade of reds, pinks, and oranges. It appeared that I was still in the park, or some other overgrown ruin. I was suspended from an ancient looking pulley used to move things to a loft? Maybe hay for the animals? I was actually inside a building, or rather what was left of it. It looked like an old tin aircraft hanger, only most of the roof was gone as well as the wall in front of me. I certainly didn't remember searching this building earlier with 'Agent Eyelash's'.

I realized for the first time that it was really difficult to breathe and then I remembered that is how crucifixion actually kills you. From what I recall of how it works, the way I was leaning forward would rapidly accelerate the process. I lamented my lack of any personal knowledge of the subject; it took far too long for my purposes and I preferred a more hands on approach.

I knew I didn't have much time and even if I got my hands free I would just end up hanging upside down by my feet until my jailor returned.

As if on cue I heard her voice… Lumen… "Wow that must be some great stuff that I gave you! Definitely worth the price of admission…" I heard the cold tone of her dark passenger, Pandora, and I was instantly aroused.

I finally located the figure for the first time; she was below me and to the right. She was facing away from me and I watched as she unzipped a green hoodie and threw it over a rusty folding chair. I could see her sweat soaked shirt clinging to her back as she stoked a fire. I could see the outlines of her scars, looking at them always excited me. I saw that as a mark of her virility, a symbol of what she could endure.

She turned to face me and I saw that she was wearing a leather mask; she had told me that she wore it on kills, but she had never shown it to me. "Lumen… get me down, we've got to get out of here… The killer could come back."

She took a large metal bucket off the fire and as she came over, her walk was purposeful but not stealthy nor fluidly. She dumped the hot red liquid into a metal tub below me, I saw it mix with the blood that was already in it and at last I understood. "Lumen, you're the Báthory killer?" I asked incredulously.

She laughed icily, "I really _**hate**_ that name…"

"I know; I hated the Bay Harbor Butcher myself…" I saw the IV tube in my feet dripping directly into the tub as my drug addled mind tried to accept what was happening as reality.

"Oh, Dexter… You have such a simplistic method of thinking, it's quite refreshing." She undid the rope that was holding me aloft and lowered it until I was about six feet from the ground. She then swung the hoist so that I was hovering over the tub. I watched as she stripped off her clothes, she was facing away from me and I marveled at how her scars looked more like wings than tiger strips from above. She slowly slipped into the metal tub and I shuttered in complete disgust. She took off her mask and slid all the way under, drenching herself in blood from head to foot. As she removed the mask, I saw a tattoo of a spider behind her neck, under the skull. I had never seen it before. I knew she hadn't had it before. She must've gotten it in the last few years; her bender in LA was most likely.

As she resurfaced I pleaded my case, "Come on; cut it out. We got to clean this up; there is an FBI agent here! We can talk this out. We can work through this. I didn't know you had urges, much less that they were this bad. We can step up the pace… I have a few lucky candidates lined up."

As she stared at me, her icy blue eyes were cold and lifeless. "Oh, Agent Connor is all tied up." She licked her lips, "But she tastes delicious…"

I felt like vomiting and almost forced myself to, just to desecrate her bathing pool, but I know how much that would enrage her. My stomach is not known to easily relinquish its contents, but I find blood to be repugnant. "So, the bath tub… you're just trying to mess with my head or what? What's the menstrual cycle thing about?"

She stood slowly as the blood sluiced off her form, her head was even with where mine was hanging and she grabbed me by the throat and forced my head upward and then hissed in my ear, "It's not a menstrual cycle…"

She pulled back slightly and our faces were but inches apart. I saw her bite her lip and eye me lustfully and I murmured in understanding, "It's an ovulation cycle…"

"Very good, I wanted you to understand. But you had to do it on your own." She smiled coyly, the stark contrast of her blood covered face and hair against her white teeth and blue eyes was quite captivating. I found it oddly arousing. She was almost demonic looking, or rather like the blue naked women in the X-men movies. She noticed my arousal, "Is that the Viagra talking, or is that all you?"

"So, that's what I'm on?"

"Yes, among other things. I found the tranquilizers have a detrimental effect on the male libido…"

I remembered the tattoo and knew instantly it had to be a black widow. This didn't bode well for me, I had to think fast.

I released the monster within and flashed my most evil Cheshire cat smile and my eeriest voice, "How did you know that I dream of this every night?" as I nodded to the tub. "Ever since I saw my wife, in that tub of her own blood, I dreamt about doing this…" I lied; nothing was further from the truth.

Her mouth fell open in shock and I seized the opportunity and kissed her. For a terrifying second she didn't kiss me back, but when she did I knew I had her. After a moment she pulled away and hurriedly pulled the cage I was strapped to into an upright position and then lowered it to the ground. Now I was face up and could breathe at the very least. She moved back to the rope and lowered me to the ground.

"God, I want you…" she purred as she came over.

"Come on already, let's do this…" It took everything I had not to ask to be cut loose, but I knew the way this worked. It would mark me as a victim… as prey… and not as an equal and willing participant. "Can you put something under my head though?"

She debated for a moment, "Uh, yeah…" she slowly removed the crown or thorns and grabbed my clothes and stuffed them under my head before straddling me. My clothes looked like they had been cut off, which was another indicator that I wasn't supposed to leave here alive. Asking for a pillow was a subtle test: was she accepting me or was I just a toy. This was a good sign.

As she scratched at my body, I remember her dark passenger was cat like. Her demonic form of foreplay was quite… different. I was actually enjoying this. Then I realized that the span of my life was measured directly to my ability to hold back long enough to win her over. Instead of enjoying it I started to think about everything I found disgusting and deplorable in life: weddings, well done steaks, fields of wild flowers (allergies), art shows that weren't featuring Damien Hirst, operas, Terms of Endearment, Celine Dion (I hope she meets the code one day), Starbucks clerks, those electric handicapped shopping carts in the grocery store, PTA meetings, little league games, Scout meetings, overdue bill notices, public transportation, courteous drivers, _non-_rush hour traffic (I love rush hour, it's the only time everyone else is like me), girl's names that end in an I, Wal-Mart greeters… you know the truly annoying things in life.

As she mounted me, I knew that I was in for an uphill battle when she grabbed me by the throat and started to choke me in a domineering way. As I coyly worked the ropes, I hoped she came to her senses before I got free. I'd prefer our relationship not end on a bad note.

.

** ***Sorry about the wait guys. I moved across the country and the past 4 months have been a very trying time. I hope it was worth the wait. I finished my long Bourne story and I am in the Dexter mood again. I have a few other chapters done, but there are 2 in between to write still. **

** During the move I rewrote all of Dexter's parts, in the whole story, to be in the first person; it took a lot of time, but I feel like it was worth it. After reading a few of the books I found that Dex in the first person is the only way to go.**

** I wrote another Lumen solo kill to get me in the mood and will be posting it later this week.**

** This was originally supposed to be the second chapter, but I thought it better to reunite them first before getting to the meat of the matter. I should be getting it finished up soon, maybe an update a week.**

** Take a second to review if you liked it, it's the only kind of payment we get. :)**


	38. Chapter 38: Touchdown

Chapter 38

Touchdown

October 31th 2011

The old Beach High School

Lt. Debra Morgan was completely incensed by the whole ridiculous situation that her dickhead brother had gotten her involved in this time. Now she was trying to find a way into the school that didn't involve climbing a twelve foot fence. Then she was supposed to stand in the middle of the football field of an abandoned high school like an idiot, waiting for fuck knows what. At least it wasn't hot out she thought just as a drop of rain hit her freshly bleached blonde hair.

"Fucking fuck shit…" she swore at the sky. She had her hair bleached by Astor's stylist because she knew she wouldn't be able to reach Lumen and needed to stall for time. She was even wearing Lumens clothes and shoes from Dexter's apartment. She didn't know who these dicks were, or what they wanted but she couldn't afford for Lumen to be a no show. More importantly, she didn't know what they knew about Dexter's hobby.

So, she was here with no backup and was trying to impersonate someone she had only every spoken to twice. Now the pouring rain was pouring down but her shudder was more to do with turning herself over these creeps that had tried to snatch Cody and Astor… Correction, _those_ creeps were dead or in jail. These were their pissed of friends.

Her phone suddenly rang startling her, "Fucking Batista…" she swore as she flipped open the phone. "_What?!_"

"Geez, good morning to you too… You'll never believe what I'm looking at…"

"Spit it the _**fuck**_ out Angel…"

"I got another stiff in black unmarked clothes, with a tranquilizer gun. He apparently broke into this cougar's apartment in South Beach; they called me out to see if it was related to our guys."

"Let me guess, she lives in apartment 13a… or on the 13th floor?"

She could hear him looking around, thinking she was there, "Yeah… The guy broke in and a dog ripped his throat out; the owner had an old police K9. He or someone else shot the dog with a tranq dart and then it looks like they snatched someone…"

"…named Tom… keep going…"

"Yeah, Thomas Eugene Serv-something-ski… So, the owner shows up…"

"Wearing black cargo pants, a long-sleeved midnight top, and old sneakers…"

He laughed, "Yeah. So everything she is telling me sounds legit, then I recognize her… she's that banker ballerina that was dating your brother. He said he had just started seeing her again and Anderson said you thought Báthory might be a woman he knew…"

"So, you didn't tell her that you knew who she was right?"  
>He laughed again, "No. I let her pack a few things and cut her loose; with the dog…"<p>

"Fuck Angel…"

"I have Cira following her…"

"Ha-ha, nice."

"Yeah, she has a telescope pointed at your brother's apartment by the way... Isn't that kinda stalkerish?"

"Woman don't stalk Angel, we 'court silently from afar'…"

"Okay, well that isn't even why I called you…"

"Well get to the fucking point…"

"I called the coroner to ask about the bodies… to see what they found out. They're gone Deb…"

"Excuse -a-fucking-what?" she scoffed.

"The wounded ones at the hospital too… The Feds got them all, they took everything… The people, the cars in the impound yard, the evidence boxes, all of it. Some RoboFed guy showed up and snatched everything…"

"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! The guy was missing his left arm and right foot? Scarred up face?"

"How the fuck do you know all of this? What are you, the Corpse Whisperer?"

"Chutsky…"

"Bless you…"

"No, 'RoboFed's' name is Kyle Chutsky. Well this tells us more than the bodies or perps ever would've…"

"Huh? I don't follow…"

"Kyle Chutsky is with the CIA or NSA or something. Works serious black bag shit… He is like a handi-cop version of James Bond. He is one of the ten deadliest things on the planet; the other nine are Australian…We're mixed up in something huge here; like as big as LaGuardia's ass."

"So you know this guy?"

"Yeah, we fucked for awhile…"

"¡eres de lo que no hay!" {You're unbelievable!}

"Angel, take a look around that place and take pictures of anything weird, I want to know what the feds take if they do show up. For now try to pass it off as unrelated, but key in South Beach on why. We are up to our armpits here and the mayor is going to have someone's ass for last night; we need to build a case that the Feds should have let us know that fucking Bin Laden has a summer home here. First though, send out a bulletin to all Federal agencies that says Lt. Debra Morgan of Miami metro is undercover inside of the black bag op currently underway in Miami headed by Kyle Chutsky… Send my picture, but tell them I went blonde."

"Well that will raise a lot of eyebrows… the wire and the hair… Do you really think we should be using the fed wire as a booty call device?"

"No you douche, I really am," she said as she squeezed under a cut portion of the fence. "I just don't want to get killed in the cross fire. Call Cira and tell her _NOT_ to lose that bitch, or she is going back to the God damn file room. I think I see a chopper coming to pick me up now, from the football field at the old Beach High School. They called me thinking I was Dex's girlfriend and told me they had Dex and that Tom guy… and they were cutting them up Angel, with a saw or something…"

"Jesus Deb… you should have at least told me… Call 911, get them to tape the call and trace the signal, then lock the phone… Maybe they won't know to pull the battery…"

"Right, goodbye Angel…"

He was rocked hearing what she knew might be that last thing anyone heard her say and he quickly called to put the wire out. He then called Langley directly and left a rather eyebrow raising message with the operator. It's not every day someone calls the switchboard outing a covert op.

Eighty-two seconds after Batista hung up, his phone rang and it showed the number as (000)000-0000. He popped it open and before he could say anything he heard a gruff voice with a Jersey accent demand, "Chutsky: Where's Debs?"

Angel quickly told him and Chutsky said, "I have your location; you're on the way. Be on the roof in four minutes buddy: or get left."

Meanwhile, Deb stood in the middle of the football field as the chopper swooped in and three men in tactical body armor jumped out. One kicked her behind the knee, causing her to fall to her knees as another threw a bag over her head and pulled a drawstring on it. She was rifle butted in the back of the head and she fell forward into the mud. They failed to knock her out but she went with it, hoping to overhear something that would help. They hogtied her and flung her unceremoniously in the back of the chopper before she realized that she wouldn't be able to hear them in the chopper anyway.

They roughly searched her and she was sure that they pulled her phone apart. She tried to count to judge how long they were in the air, but then she figured what's the point? She didn't even know how fast choppers could fly and she was never good at those 'a kidnapping victim leaves in a chopper going one direction' word problems. All she could do now was to wait.

* * *

><p>Capt. María LaGuerta had said that she was going to go and retrieve Dexter and Agent Connor, but she didn't say when she was going to do it. When she left Dexter's condo she went home and went back to bed for a few hours; she saw no reason to head out to the swamp straight away, she wouldn't be able to find them in the dark. She set her clock for six and when it went off the first thing she did was to try to call them both again. Receiving no answer she promptly went into high gear showering, fixing her hair and applying her make-up with great care. She knew there would be press conferences today and that she wouldn't be able to wiggle out of all of them.<p>

As she ate breakfast she watched an early presser from Chief Mathews who was trying to calm the dogs of war. The press corps was nothing but a group of ungrateful jackals, and she knew that either way Miami Metro would be going through the ringer this morning. How would it look to have two children of a '_Detective_?' Wait a minute… he just said Det. Morgan. She beamed at the thought that Debra Morgan had already been sacked and subconsciously licked her freshly applied lipstick.

She turned the volume up, […yes we believe that to be the case.] he said responding to a question.

{Chief so he is no relation to Lt. Morgan?}

[There is no blood relation between the two. Det. Dexter Morgan was just promoted up this week and we were going to have a press conference about it, but that will need to wait for now.]

"What the hell," she fumed. She started running through a scenario where she could transfer the troublesome Debra Morgan out under a nepotism beef, but it sounded like Mathews had looked into that already. The rules must spell out blood relation or relation through marriage, but not cover adoption. "Fuck!" she fumed.

[… yes Det. Morgan thwarted the terrorist attack on the Metro police station and save hundreds of lives, but he is not only being promoted because of extraordinary valor but also due to a decade of exemplary performance as a crime scene investigator. We are damn glad to have him."

He cleared his throat, "As far as the events of last evening, be assured that anyone that would knowingly and willingly perform a home invasion in order to kidnap a Police officer and his whole family would have gone to any length to get away. These were not men who took this lightly. To wage a malicious and coordinated attack against the Miami Police Department is a suicide mission and they knew that. They were willing to kill anything in their way and choose to die rather than be taken alive. We were able to arrest two men before they could kill themselves or fire on our officers. We also recovered the kidnapping victims."

"Now there was some property damage," he held up his hands to stem the onslaught of questions, "and some innocent people were hurt… but with a platoon of heavily armed men assaulting the city, the outcome was as good as could be expected. Now we are still investigating of course and internal affairs will certainly take a look as well, but it appears that my people acted with valor and distinction. I can find no glaring errors by our people. Detective Morgan is in the field investigation the Báthory case, his children are with relatives. Det. Quinn is in surgery at the moment and is in very critical condition. Some other officers were injured as well as Det. Morgan's son but they have all been treated and released… His daughter had been kidnapped but has been recovered safely…"

LaGuerta hurled the remote for the television across the room without bothering to turn it off. She grabbed her purse and slammed the door after herself. _"God damn it!"_ she shrieked as she got in the car and stomped on the accelerator.

* * *

><p>Cira Manzon had learned her lesson all those years ago about how to properly follow another car when she had been ambushed by drug dealers and locked in the truck of her own car as it sank into the bay. She carefully followed the blond woman from the high rise apartment to a Publix Supermarket a short distance away. She was driving a taxi which was registered to a surety agent named Dora Jones. She started to get out of her car when she saw her go to an old maroon sedan and covertly use a slim Jim on the car door. The blond woman got a trash bag from the trunk and several things from the inside of the car that she couldn't see. She placed the trash bag in her own trunk and returned to her car.<p>

The computer showed the maroon car as Dexter's service vehicle and she tried to call Lt. Morgan to let her know she'd located her brother's car but there was no answer, nor did Batista pick up. She called dispatch and requested a forensic sweep of the car and a tow to the impound yard.

She followed the woman south to the old Miami zoo. It was in a remote location and sometimes Cira was following so far behind her that she had trouble seeing the car. She saw her turn into the Zoo and wisely didn't follow her through the gate. She drove a short distance up the road and retrieved her shotgun from the trunk and ran back down the road and down the drive way. Cira arrived at the parking lot in time to see the woman leading a K9 into the park and quickly followed her.

***** Kyle Chutsky is a character from the Dexter novels, but I'll let you know everything you need to know about him as we go...**


	39. Chapter 39: Blood is Hard to Wash Off

Chapter 39

Blood is Hard to Wash Off

October 31th 2011

Lumen Pierce took great care washing the blood off of her dog Zeus. The blood was mostly from the man he had killed in her condo, but some was from the steak that he had just eaten as a reward for a job well done. She used gallons of water and liquid soap from her trunk. She hated taking the time to do it, but he would save her so much time tracking Dexter in the park that it was worth it. She had to make sure she got the blood off to keep the alligators away. She knew precious little about them but knew sharks could smell blood for miles and that was underwater and didn't want to draw undo attention.

She turned him loose and despite her explicit instructions he started shaking furiously flinging water all over her. She giggled uncharacteristically, "Okay, so sometimes a dog is just a dog… I am so proud of you! You had a nice long nap- I know, the bad man shot you with the bad dart! Are you ready for a run? Want to run?" He ran in a circle excitedly.

She grabbed Dexter's shirt from the overnight bag the police let her pack and let the dog sniff it. He barked and looked a little too excited, "No, we aren't _hunting_ him… Bekannter!" The dog huffed at the word 'friend' and eyed her skeptically. "Yes he is a predator, but so are we… He's my mate, come on. Come on…!"

He followed her to where the van had been located; it was gone now. The only way she knew that she had found the right place is because there was a cell phone left there. She had the dog sniff it, it wasn't Dexter's.

* * *

><p>Cira Manzon caught up to Lumen as she was leading the dog into the park and followed her as surreptitiously as possible given the circumstances. She thought the dog heard or smelled her a few times, so she fell back some more, but found it difficult to: watch her target, look at the path in front of her, and try to memorize her way out, all at the same time.<p>

* * *

><p>Lumen saw Dexter strapped to the round fan cage on the ground and avoided the temptation to rush to him, but first carefully examined the area for the killer. The amphitheater was very open and had few places for a full-sized person to hide. She saw the tub and the bloody footprints on the ground and silently prayed, 'Please God… I know I haven't pray to you since… well since I begged you to let me die. Please don't let him be dead… Please…' Still seeing no one she rushed to his side. She saw that he was covered in blood and that he was sweating, but didn't know if bodies continued to sweat out moister after death.<p>

Just as she was about to check for a pulse, his head lulled over in her direction and his eyes flitted open. "Please, no more… Lu… please stop it…"

"Okay, it's okay… I'm here; I'm going to get you out of this…" She watched as his head lulled back and forth. She looked around for danger before telling the dog to guard her as she tried to pick the locks on his shackles. Having difficulty with the first lock, she moved on and had success with the other three and then was able to pick the first after some difficultly.

She saw an open bottle of water on the table and poured some into his mouth, "Here drink this, you have to be dehydrated." He sputtered some of it up until it registered to his drug addled brain that it was water and then started swallowing it in gulps. "Dexter we need to get you out of here. Look at me… Can you walk?"

In answer he flopped a hand over and pointed. "No, Dex… the car is the other way."

He looked at her incredulously and managed to croak, "Look…"

She looked in the direction he pointed and started to shrug and then ran to where a folding table and a bunch of buckets were stacked near a smoldering campfire. She grabbed the handles of the wheel burrow and hurriedly wheeled it over to him. "Here… Let me help you…" She pulled him up and he dumped into the wheel burrow so quickly that it almost tipped over.

"Where is your partner Dexter?" He shook his head, "Here drink more…" he gulped more water.

"…time…" he managed.

She checked her watch before she remembered that it was dead from her dunking earlier, "I'm not sure… around noon I think." She wheeled him back out the way they came, sometimes with the dog's assistance as to the direction. When she could see the entrance to the park she heard a series of shots ring out behind her. She looked at Dexter but he was unconscious. She wheeled him to the car as fast as she could, panting heavily as the dog ecstatically ran circles around them, "You know- I'm about to add sled dog to your repertoire… Laugh it up!" She got to the car and struggled to get Dexter into the passenger's seat. She refilled the water bottle from a gallon in her trunk which she brought with her. She got behind the wheel as she heard another volley of gunshots. She started the car and began to speed off, until she saw the gold sedan parked near the fence. It was off to the side, but she was certain that it wasn't there before. She really couldn't explain what made her do it, but she stopped next to it and punctured one of the tires, then barreled off to the highway.

* * *

><p>The Old Zoo<p>

Capt. María LaGuerta was completely unprepared for her trek through the overrun zoo. Her high heels made every little step perilous, she was thirsty, the bugs were eating her alive, and she was lost. She had wandered around the zoo for an hour and hadn't learned much more than she knew when she found the taxi in the overgrown parking lot. She had taken pictures of the car and called in its location to dispatch.

Suddenly she rounded a corner and the same time as a blond woman who was dressed in Army camouflage pants and a green t-shirt. Both women realized at the same moment that they both had guns in their hands.

"Police!" María shouted as she raised her gun, but she was too slow. She saw murder in the woman's eyes and blood on her hands as she leveled the gun. María's heels saved her life as she tripped and fell backwards hard and bullets flew by over her head. She fired three rounds back, but they were rushed and all of them missed as the woman ran back around the corner of the building.

LaGuerta cursed as she got to her feet and leveled her gun around the corner, the woman was gone. In the distance she heard running and she tried to give chase for a few minutes but quickly fell behind. She walked past a door that was ajar and as if on cue, it squeaked ominously, she slowly entered the room and swept it. It was dark inside and she heard a groan and saw the Hispanic man suspended from the ceiling. "Oh, my God… I'll get you down…"

As she started to holster her gun the light level in the room changed and she saw a woman with a ponytail in the doorway, she was raising a weapon. LaGuerta whipped her gun up and snapped off three shots, at least one hit and the woman fell backward through the door, which shut heavily behind her.

LaGuerta crept over to the door and her hands were shaking in spite of herself as she reached out and opened the door and saw Cira lying in a growing pool of blood. She saw at least one gunshot wound to the chest and she fell to her knees, "Cira! Cira!"

Now a normal person would've been checking vitals, calling for EMTs or something else useful; but María was a politician and her mind was working overdrive trying to find some way to come out of this smelling like roses.

* * *

><p>Ricardo's Gun and Pawn<p>

The short balding man working the counter at Ricardo's Gun and Pawn heard the brass bell above the door ring as he ate his third Tums in as many minutes. He pulled off his sweaty newspaper boy hat and flopped in on the counter as he adjusted the thick gold chain that accented his brownish tropical shirt, which was already unbuttoned revealing his dingy wife-beater underneath. He mumbled to no-one in particular, "Tomorrow I'm getting the AC fixed…"

He didn't even looked up from the crossword he was doing as the well dressed businessman entered the establishment and approached the counter, "Hey buddy, what's a five letter word for 'Act with artful deceit?'There's a Z in the middle."

"Cozen… I was looking for a rare coin. A Bahar Azadi?"

He heard a soothing voice from behind him, "Police, move and I'll kill you…" The suit glanced in the display case in front of him and saw the reflection of the tall black man, he mistook as someone casing the place, pointing a Glock at his head. In a flash he stepped and ducked to the left, spun, grabbed and twisted Mike Anderson's gun away, punched him in the throat, then he extend his leg and kicked Anderson viciously in the gut before bolting to the door.

He flung heavy glass the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw the police cars, SWAT team, the helicopter circling. Suddenly he felt a stab in the back and froze as the electricity coursed through him. He fell to the ground and was unable to move as the little bald man said, "Tony De Marco with FDLE. You're under arrest coz…"

"Did you see that?" Mike mumbled as he snatched his gun up.

"Yeah, he totally pulled a Jason Bourne on you… He hit you like six times in two seconds. I can't wait to see it in slow mo…"

"Great…" Mike spit in exasperation as he stared at the High Def police camera. "You-Tube here I come. You think I'll get more hits than Lt. Deb?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

><p>Coconut Grove, Dexter's Condo<p>

It took Lumen more than an hour to get to Dexter's apartment and when she finally got there he was finally starting to come around. "Come on, I'll help you inside."

"I'm feeling better… Clothes?"

"Oh, yeah right…" she shook her head. "Here… I have a set of your evening wear with me," she joked handing him a set of his kill clothes. He dressed quickly as he could within the car's interior and she gave him a wet towel to wipe the blood off of his face and hands. They walked to the door and he saw the crime scene sticker on the door and the bloody footprints going out his door and down the rear stairs. "Oh yeah… I was going to wait until you showered, before I told you…" she murmured. He glared at her as he got his keys out, she continued, "Men broke in to our places…"

He opened the door quickly and looked around, "ASTOR, CODY!" he bellowed.

"They aren't here. They are at your sisters." He glared at her with murder in his eyes, "They are okay… Cody was here with Jamie and…" he saw the grill off of the AC unit and rushed to it. "Oh, I took them- in case the police came back." He looked relived, "Cody shot a couple of the guys; I think one died. He cut his feet on some glass and got stitched up. Astor wasn't home; they snatched her and she was in a police chase- it's all over the news. She okay too, Mike Anderson got her back. Harrison's fine." Her voice quivered and he jerked his head around to her, knowing there was a huge but coming, "They got Tom… I think it was the guy at the park- the hawk faced man. What are we going to do…?"

He went to the fridge and got a bottle of Gatorade without bothering to shut the door, "I'm going to take a shower…" he grated before walking to his bedroom. She closed the refrigerator door and leaned against the stove for several minutes. She sighed in exasperation before turning to go to the bedroom- only when she turned she was nose to nose with Dexter and felt a pinch on her neck. Blackness took her instantly and he didn't bother to catch her as she fell. "…then I'm going to redefine the nature of our association."

"Bravo brother! Bravo!" Brian exclaimed.

He left her on the floor and the syringe on the counter as he went to shower. It sounded like no one would be happening by anytime soon.

***Beginning to wonder if the juice is worth the squeeze on this one... Had this Chapter 90% done before the holidays and lost interest. My two favorite Dexter stories on here are unfinished though and I would hate to follow in their footsteps. **


	40. Chapter 40: Trust and Mistrust

Trust and Mistrust

October 30th 2011

Miami, FL

The jet black helicopter swung down to the rooftop at a rate that Evel Knievel would've deemed unsafe. Angel Batista started to climb in the open side door before strong arms grabbed him and pulled him in and left him on the floor of the chopper which immediately banked outward of the open door.

Batista pulled himself into one of the empty seats as someone shoved a fully armored SWAT style bulletproof vest in his hands, "I already…" he tried to say until he saw the issuer pointing at the noise canceling headphones he was wearing. He then grabbed his crotch and then pointed to the vest he was sitting on like a seat cushion. Batista nodded in understanding, if he want to keep his balls he should sit on it.

Angel watched as the three men in black suits, sunglasses, and thin black ties donned tactical gear. One pointed to a headset and Angel put it on- he was already clutching his hat due to the prop wash.

"Agents P, B, and J… nice to meet you; Angel Batista-"

Before he could finish the forth man barked, "-any relation?"

-No Relation," he finished.

"Shame. Too bad I wasn't at the Bay of Pigs; things would've gone differently," the man said in a think Jersey accent. "Nice hat!"

The fourth man was obviously Kyle Chutsky, but he wasn't what Angel had expected. His face was scarred as Deb had indicated, he had a large gash from the corner of his eye and the corner of his mouth that met at his cleft chin. The scars were symmetrical and actually made him better looking. He had a cheesy Tom Selleck mustache and was wearing a multicolored pastel bowling shirt that was unbuttoned in the front showing his thick gold chain, wife beater, and the northern most reaches of his continent of chest hair. He was missing a hand and foot- on opposite sides but had complex looking prosthetic limbs in their place. The hand had a menagerie of tools on it, including what appeared to be a bottle opener. In his hand he was clutching a hat not unlike Angels, was also wearing a gold bracelet, and a pinkie ring which appeared to be a woman's engagement ring with a massive center piece.

"Thanks, it looks like we have the same tailor…"

He nodded as he turned to the pilot, "You see any choppers yet?"

"No…" the pilot stated flatly.

"You find Dex yet?" Chutsky asked.

Angel shook hid head, "You know him?"

"Yeah Buddy, eighty percent of me owes him a debt of gratitude. We've been working around the clock on this. Me and Debs fucked for awhile…"

"¡eres de lo que no hay!"

"That's what she said…"

The pilot chimed in, "Sir, we got them…"

Chutsky turned in his seat to see where the pilot was pointing, "Alright, PB&J get ready to fire and make sure you hit the engine or tail." The three men glared at Batista knowing that the nickname was going to stick and they all hooked on emergency straps and moved to firing positions at the open door.

Chutsky turned back to Batista, "Those bitches are going to be glad they stole a life flight chopper if they hurt Debs…"

The chopper approached its prey from above and the three agents fired on the aft end of the craft as Chutsky broadcast to them, "Dear stolen aircraft, Please land on that golf course now. I have been ordered to shoot you down if you do not comply and an Apache is in route. Please land immediately. You have ten seconds to change course. I hope we can still be friends…" he laughed.

The craft rapidly descended and landed, as it did Chutsky relayed, "The pilot is the only one I need alive."

The two choppers landed and men piled out of both and opened fire. PB&J wasted the three men that got out of the other chopper as Chutsky trotted to the cockpit of the other craft and yanked the pilot out as he killed the engine.

He forced the pilot to his knees as Agent P checked the chopper, "She's not here…"

"Where is she; Debra Morgan."

"Who?!"

"I don't have time for this," he fired a round into the pilots knee. "The girl from the football field, asshole- where!"

"School- the roof. Third floor." He groaned, "…just a decoy…"

Batista couldn't help but notice that the other two agents were behind him, waiting for him to try to interfere.

Chutsky pointed to one of the agents, Agent B get the co-pilot and help him load the bodies and transport them to the rally point. No-one talks to him. No-one. Lock everything down." He motioned for the rest to board the chopper.

* * *

><p>Lumen's consciousness was slowly coming back to her. She took a deep breath and she knew where she was without even needing to look. She could smell the damp earth; hear the haunting moan of the wind blowing through the broken windows. She knew all too well the familiar banging of a loose shutter and the steady dripping from a sink faucet with a slow leak. She felt herself start to shudder in spite of herself. She had spent almost two months here, tied up and passed around a group of sadists as their personal plaything. She existed in this room; she always would be here no matter how far she ran or who she killed. This place would haunt her forever.<p>

She could tell the paralytic she was given was slowly wearing off, but kept silent and didn't open her eyes. She tried to move her fingers, just slightly, with success.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this Lumen," she was proud that she didn't move a hair despite being startled; he was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck. "I know you're awake, I have watched you sleep enough to know the difference." Dexter's voice was hollow, as if he had disconnected from himself. She had heard that tone before and she knew what it meant. When someone heard that voice, it meant their ass.

"Dexter, please tell me why you would bring me back here?" she asked trying to keep her voice flat. She opened her eyes at last and looked around. She was laying on her back strapped to a table, mummified in plastic wrap and duct taped down. Her hands were on her hips and she could feel that her pants were still on; he saved her that humiliation at least. He wrapped his kills in plastic wrap to keep blood contained and having them naked helped during dismemberment of the body.

"It seemed fitting. Your Dark Passenger, 'Pandora' was born here and now she will die here, just as Jordan Chase was born and died here. Although the circumstances of the journey obviously differ, the premise is still sound. I felt it would help bring a since of closure," he almost sounded like a college professor as he said this; he was motioning with his hands a lot as he spoke.

Lumen could not bring herself to speak, she wanted to remain calm. He continued, "Pandora? You do know that Pandora unleashed all of the evil upon the Earth when she opened that little box of hers, right?"

Tears started to pour from the corner of her eyes. "Yes, all evil spirits left the box and left only one spirit inside, Hope. I now collect those spirits and I am putting them back in the box one by one. I don't collect blood slides; I collect their last breath, in bottles."

"Indeed? So, that's what this is?" He held up a beautiful rose colored antique perfume bottle.

"Yes, that bottle is empty though."

"That is very fortuitous," he whispered in her ear, his voice was so detached that it chilled her to the bone.

"So, why are we here?"

"Oh, you know why…" he leered at her like the Cheshire cat, nodding unnecessarily. His dark passenger was completely behind the wheel at this point.

"I know the purpose, but not the rational," she said and swallowed hard. "Why are you doing this Dexter?" she could feel her eyes involuntarily pleading with him.

"That's the third time you've used my name since you woke up, nice to see you building rapport with your captors, how very Hostage Hand Bookish of you. You have forced me to do this because you are killing people, good people at that. In addition, the way you're doing it really annoys me," he hissed out the last part as he stalked around the table, like a shark circling its prey. "Setting up the kill room and getting rid of the evidence I could live with as a lesson learned on my part. But, bathing in their blood and then walking barefoot out of the bathroom is just a slap in the face. You really shouldn't be mocking what happened to Rita." He lowered his eyes, "I was very… fond of her." It was hard for him to say he was fond of her, he said it as though the word was being drug from his mouth.

"Bathe in blood? So, you think I am the Báthory killer!?" she said incredulously, "Jesus…" she couldn't help but roll her eyes and involuntarily tried to sit up but she couldn't even move an inch. She thought he was just trying to scare her out of their lifestyle, for lack of a better term. But, now she realized that he was seriously going to do this.

"Jesus? Nice alternative to using my name, but under the circumstance, very touchy and a bit sacrilegious. I think you're border line, you might squeak into Heaven. But, you might want to start revering the man upstairs; you're in the State of Florida, every vote counts here."

"Well, if you have come this far, I know you are sure that you know what you are doing and that there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise," she couldn't hold back the flood of tears anymore.

"Look at me Dexter," he moved his face directly over hers, so close that their noses brushed. "I want you to collect my dying breath in that bottle; I will give you the last spirit, Hope. I know one day you will be rid of all of this and I want you to promise me something…" she saw his stony face and cold eyes soften, he swallowed hard and nodded. "Promise me you that you won't blame yourself for this. Please relish in the little time we were given, I owe you my life three times over, it is yours for the taking." She lifted her head slowly and kissed him, never expecting him to return the gesture, but return it he did. A long moment later as he pulled away, a single tear rolled down his cheek, he wiped his hand and looked at his hand, almost curiously as though he had never shed a tear before.

Dexter's face and eyes visibly hardened, "Any last requests, besides letting you go, that is? A blindfold maybe?" He set his jaw; he was steeling himself, trying to maintain his determination. She swallowed hard, "Please don't cut me up." She was trembling so hard now that the plastic wrap was making noise.

He nodded and rubbed her cheek where he usually ritually cut his victims, "I would never… you are not a trophy to me. You are so very much more than that. Unfortunately, I didn't bring enough M-99 to do it all, but I could put you under and smother you?" He said it very casually while nodding for approval, as if he was suggesting Chinese takeout for dinner.

"That's fine, but that's not what I meant. Please don't dismember me. I don't want you to have to live with that later. I know one day you will hate yourself for it."

He looked her up and down, obviously sizing her up and he let out a sigh, "Yeah, I can do that. It's definitely not one of the usual services that I offer, but you are very… special to me." He kissed her forehead and then produced a syringe and primed it.

She felt him insert the needle in her neck. She could think of only one last thing to say as she looked longingly into his eyes, "_Eyes look your last! Arms, take your last embrace!_ Good bye Dexter."

"Goodnight Lumen." He pressed the plunger on the syringe and she felt the drug course through her, her eyes closed and she went limp and felt herself slipping away, spinning backwards as though she was falling through the table, 'looks like I know which direction I am going,' she thought to herself. He kissed her forehead as he rubbed her hair gently. He whispered in her ear, as if he didn't want anyone to hear a secret, "I love you Lumen. I always thought I wasn't capable of love and I am… sorry for this." Her cheek felt wet, whose tears they were she would never know. She could smell jasmine; the perfume bottle was under her nose now. The last thing she heard was plastic wrap being pulled tight, he couldn't bring himself to strangle her, and so it would be cellophane then…? Blackness then consumed her entirely.


End file.
